


Sehnsucht

by SansSoucis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Bad Touch Trio, Beilschmidt family dynamics, Berlin (City), Character Death, Character Development, Cheating, Child!Canada, Crime, Dark fic, Drinking, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Relationships, Explicit Language, F/M, FACE family (minus America), Friendship, Gilbert probably has depression, Human AU, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, M/M, Mostly Gilberts POV, Murder, Nobody in this fic is nice, Occasional use of German, One-Sided Relationship, Past Character Death, Past Relationships, Reunions, Smoking, Tragic Romance, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, chain-smoking, face - Freeform, past friendships, slow fic, vague descriptions of sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansSoucis/pseuds/SansSoucis
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt thought he had peaked in college, even though that peek had been nothing more than a hillock at best, but a reunion with old friends and the murder of his drug dealer set off a series of events that cause him to quickly rise up to the top, but in the end bring him down just as hard. Follow Gil on his journey to succes, filled with crime and unrequited love and watch as a monster slowly develops. Was it his own fault or was his life simply meant to go to shit? Human AU





	1. PROLOGUE

**SEHNSUCHT**

* * *

PROLOGUE

The sky was a watercolour painting, a purply blue canvas with peachy pink stains framed by the tall houses of Pankow. The sun sank behind the horizon, Berlins rooftops bathing in an orange glow. Nothing could be heard but the rustling of the leaves in the trees above him and the monotone sound of cars driving past. A soft summer breeze made his fingers tremble around the trigger. The man before him looked like he had already died, face almost as grey as the pavement he was lying on.

"Well?" A harsh sound, driven past sneering pale lips, long limbs stretching, empty plastic cups and wrappers cracking underneath him as he struggled to push himself up, like a wounded snake ready to strike. "Do it then."

Even though the face before him was familiar, skin spun tight around high cheekbones, it was still twisted with a malice he had not seen on there before in all of his 24 years of age. "Kill me."

The man was panting harshly, red eyes, sunken back in layers of shadowy skin, burning as if they were the windows of hell.

The gun, just as silvery and obnoxious as Gilbert Beilschmidt himself, was cold and heavy in his hands, it shone dimly in the last beams of sunlight. He watched as it shook in his fist, brain numbed with fear, wondering how they had ended up like this, two broken savages bound by blood crawling around on Berlin's pavements like cockroaches.

Gilbert chuckled at his hesitation, the sound cutting straight through his bones like a frozen knife.

"Come on, it's easy, _einfach, ist es nicht_?" He taunted, slipping into his mother-tongue, chapped lips curling into a mocking smirk, revealing yellowish teeth. He crawled forward, close enough to touch his captor, not even wincing when the gun was pressed against his head.

The look in Gilbert's eyes as he spoke again was unlike anything he had ever seen, wide eyes looking up at him from underneath either side of the gun, fear masked by the eerie hysteria and adrenaline that came with the use of joy powder dominated by the dazzling feeling of triumph as he knew how to push his opponent's buttons just right.

"Easy enough for a _murderer_ like you."

He didn't say it accusingly, or taunting, he just stated it, cold and unforgiving, and it was enough to blur the lines between reason and insanity. The signature cackle Gilbert had meant to add right after his statement in order to twist the knife some more was cut short by a loud crack. His captor watched with a burning feeling of satisfaction as the man fell back against the pavement, the blood on his face matching his devilish eyes.

" _DU BIST EIN VERDAMMTES SCHWEIN!_ " He vaguely registered Gilbert's thin hand clutching his wrist as if trying to stop him but he paid it no mind as he brought the gun down on his face again, and again, and again-he only stopped after he felt something in his own fingers snap, the numbing pain bringing him to his senses again, crushing him with the horrifying realisation of what he had done.

Gilbert's fingers were still closed around his wrist, he could feel them, ice cold against his own heated skin, leaving marks that he would feel forever. His heart pounded in his throat as he kept his gaze downward, afraid to see what he had done, but the bloody metal in his stained hands provided little comfort.

"You destroyed me...You destroyed everything.." He whispered hoarsely, struggling to breathe as tears stung into his eyes.

The grip on his wrist tightened. " _Es tut mir leid._ " The teary-voiced apology was barely audible, but it was there along with thin fingers soothingly stroking the back of his hand. " _Es tut mir leid_ ," Gilbert spoke again. „ _Ich weiß das du mich nie verziehen kann, aber es tut mir leid_ "

He let out a sob, gripping his Gilbert's hand tightly. " _Es tut mir auch leid, Gilbert._ " He sobbed, closing his eyes, tears rolling over his cheeks. " _Mein Gott_ , please forgive me.."

Gilbert did not answer, instead he placed their entwined hands, the gun laced in-between their fingers, over his heart.

„ _Töte mich, Ludwig._ "

Ludwig cried and pulled the trigger.

* * *

   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Einfach, ist es nicht? = Easy, isn't it?
> 
> Du bist ein verdammtes schwein! = You are a damn pig!
> 
> Es tut mir (auch) leid = I'm sorry (too)
> 
> Ich weiß das du mich nie verziehen kann, aber es tut mir leid = I know you can't ever forgive me, but I'm sorry
> 
> Mein Gott = My God
> 
> Töte mich = Kill me


	2. Réunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After six long years, Gilbert is reunited with his old friends from college. Things have changed.

_Dear Gilbert,_

_I hope you are still using this email address, it has been so long since we last spoke! How have things been going, amigo? God, I haven't seen you in years! I hope you are still living in Berlin, because Francis and I were hoping to catch up sometime! It's just a little get-together at Francis' place, our dear host would appreciate it if you brought something with you for us to feast upon, let's say an alcoholic beverage of some sort ;)) Francis' address is: Kasperstrasse 32. As for the date and time; are you available on the 5th of May, at 7 PM? Oh, I am already so excited! Can you imagine? The grand reunion of the Bad Touch Trio :DDDD Please mail me back as soon as possible._

_Your friend,_

_Antonio Fernandez Carriedo_

* * *

 

The house was different than Gilbert had expected. It was pretty large, at least larger than the tiny apartment Gil was used to, especially for a house in Berlin in this neighbourhood.

It was a newly built house, three stories plastered in a light creamy pink, covered by a large orangey-red roof. _Francis has done well for himself_ , he thought as he walked through the garden, rose bushes rustling all around him, the slight summer's breeze giving him goose bumps. He noticed that part of the garden was still unfinished, one large patch of bare dark earth reached from the pavement to the white front door.

Gilbert wondered for how long Francis had been living in Berlin, and why on earth he had not bothered to tell him he was back. Then again, it had been Antonio who had contacted him, so he was not sure if Francis had even felt the need to reconnect.

He let out a shaky sigh, clutching the wine bottle tighter in his hands, before continuing his way through the front door. His pale lips curled into a smile when he noticed Antonio's rickety Seat standing in the driveway. The familiar colour had gone from tomato red to dusty rust, and it had even more bumps than it had when they were in college, but Gilbert could still see the stupid yellow _"I brake for turtles"_ sticker along with a portrait of Jesus stuck on the bumper. Gilbert snickered to himself, it was good to know Toni was still, at least for some part, the goofball he had been 6 years ago.

Even though Gilbert would never admit it, in fact he had even denied it when Ludwig asked him about it, he actually was quite nervous to see his friends again. For the most part it was just nervous excitement, but a small part of him was afraid the people he had spent the best years of his life with had _changed_ , that they had moved on after they had separated from one another, living happily without him. The decorative grey buckets with forget-me-nots on the front porch, hideous little things that the Francis _he knew_ would never ever buy, and the bottle of cheap rosé in his hands provided nothing to ease his fear.

His heart was pounding in his throat by the time he had reached the door. He checked his reflection in a darkened window, attempting to somewhat fix his messy silvery hair, before raising a hand, almost as white as the door itself, to the doorbell. He closed his eyes as the high pitched sound of the doorbell, shrill and old-fashioned, rang through the silent neighbourhood and Gilbert panicked for a moment, suddenly feeling nauseous.

He relaxed when he heard a familiar muffled laugh, hoarse and breathless and just _Toni_ , come from inside, while shadows moved behind the closed curtains. The door opened and Gilbert squinted his eyes when he was suddenly bathed in a sea of light.

"Gilbert! _Hola!_ " A voice boomed and Gilbert only caught a glimpse of the inside of Francis' home, yellowish wallpaper and dark wooden floors, before he was enveloped in a pair of strong arms.

"It has been too long!" breathed Toni's voice close to his ear and Gilbert could only nod as he clutched Antonio's shoulders and inhaled the man's familiar musky scent.

"Oh look at you, you haven't changed in one bit!" Antonio laughed as he pulled back, green eyes wandering over Gilbert's physique. Toni's laugh was as contagious as it had always been and Gilbert found himself laughing too.

"Yup, I'm still the _awesome_ me!" He said cheerfully, spreading his arms as if to present himself, almost knocking his wine bottle into the doorpost, causing Antonio to flinch.

"Ay.. _amigo_ let me take that." Antonio snickered as he studied the bottle. "Aaaahh! _Domfelder Roséwein!_ Just like the old times!"

Toni was looking at him with genuine excitement and appreciation and Gilbert felt like he could just cry in relief, wanting to say things like ' _you remembered, thank god_!' or _'thank you for not judging my cheap wine_ ' but finally settling for a cocky "Well duh, if the Bad Touch Trio is getting together again there's got to be _Bad Booze_ involved!"

Antonio whooped in agreement, gesturing for Gil to come in. "Well come in then, we sure have a lot of catching up to do!"

As Gilbert stepped inside, he took a moment to study his old friend. If Antonio had aged even a bit, he had done it gracefully. Maybe there were some more crinkles at the corners of his dark green eyes but his smile still shone as pearly white on his tan face as it ever did.

Antonio clapped his back, practically bouncing on his feet."Just a moment! I'll get Francis. FRAN! HE'S HERE!"

Antonio beamed at him as he walked away and Gilbert gave him a half-hearted wave before he was left alone in the hallway. Now that Antonio's soothing presence was gone, anxiety struck again. He repeatedly tapped his dirty converse against the polished wooden floor, listening to his own breaths.

_In._

**Out.**

_In._

**Out.**

_Relax, Gil. It's just Francis._

Which was exactly the problem. It was not that he and Francis had parted on bad terms, it was just that they.. _had parted_. Francis had never tried to contact him after he graduated from college, and Gilbert had originally thought it was for the better, as their personalities did not match very well and their friendship sometimes had been rocky, awkward, but he knew it had all been for nothing as even the mentioning of Francis' name did not fail to spark something inside him. He wondered if he would be able to face Francis after six long years, without feeling like a fool.

In order to distract himself he let his eyes wander around the room, gliding from the abstract paintings on the wall to the purple coat on the coatrack, to the large mirror hanging above a drawer on the opposite side of the hallway.

As he walked closer to the gold-framed thing it was like he saw a ghost emerge from the shadows, panicky red eyes, burning in a pale face, looking back at him helplessly. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair, watching as it sprang back again, refusing to be tamed. He looked at his arms, white stripes against his large black t-shirt, and wondered if he had gotten skinnier since college, if that was even _possible_. He felt just like a huge bag of bumbling bones, ready to fall apart as soon as Francis lay eyes upon him.

 _Fuck, he really needed a smoke_.

The sound of something shuffling behind him interrupted his self-hate session, causing Gilbert to almost smash his head into the mirror. "What the _fuck-_ " His hands steadied themselves on the drawer, his wide eyes met themselves in the mirror, frantically searching the room behind him until he found **blue**.

_Blue eyes which he had seen filled with tears from anger, sadness and joy, sparkling up at him through golden lashes which used to be clumpy with mascara, gazing at him as they sat together in the back of Toni's car, sweaty and tired and stoned out of their minds, watching as their smoke swirled out of the car windows and into the open cloudless sky-_

It took Gilbert several more glances to snap out of his memories and notice these were not Francis' eyes he was looking at. They were more of a purplish blue, hidden behind rectangle-shaped glasses, and they belonged to a small child who stood across the hallway, looking at Gilbert uncertainly.

Gilbert turned around, staring at the child bewilderedly, panting slightly. "Hello, little guy!" He tried to say cheerfully, but it came out like more of a panicked shriek.

The child shrunk back, hiding it's face behind a white stuffed bear that was almost as large as the child itself. As Gilbert carefully approached the boy, he noticed some awfully familiar blond hair that danced around his head in tight curls.

"Hi fella!" He tried again, regaining control over his voice. "What's your name?"

The child muttered something inaudible into his polar bear, staring at Gilbert with wide eyes, staggering back like a scared animal.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch that." Gilbert said as he continued to walk towards the boy, watching him curiously. That _hair_.. those _eyes_. The kid was wearing a blue shirt, something was written on it in delicate white lettering. _Papa's petit garcon_.

Gilbert blinked again. _The fuck? Was this kid even real? Had he not smoked too much before coming here?_

Those _damn_ eyes.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he had extended a hand towards the cowering child, reaching to cup his cheek.

"I-it's okay.." he heard himself stammer. "Don't be afraid."

His fingertips touched the boy's cheek for about one second, before Gilbert was almost deafened by an ear piercing shriek. "Ow! _Scheiße_!" He cursed, hastily stepping back, wincing as a small foot kicked his shin.

"What the _hell?_ -" He snarled, trying to push the child away from him, watching as it toppled over on the floor while still wailing uncontrollably. "Oh _fuck_. Shit. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He said awkwardly, immediately feeling guilty, stumbling away from the toddler. "Hey-hey! I'm so sorry! I'm so- _UGH_!"

The air was almost slammed out of his lungs as he slipped on the shiny wood, falling flat on his back. He found himself looking up at a chandelier dancing before his eyes as pain spread throughout his body.

 _He really shouldn't have smoked before coming here._ _No, screw that, he shouldn't have come here in the first place._

He felt someone step over him, a shadow moved before his eyes, and seconds after, the crying stopped. A whisper cut through the awkward silence that followed.

"Hush, Mathieu.. Ssshh.. _Sssh,_ it's okay.. Papa's here, it's okay."

He sat up, having to blink a few times before a blond, slender figure came into view. Gilbert thought he felt his heart still as he watched Francis rock the child, cooing softly at it in his slurred accent, pressing tender kisses into its hair.

"Ssshh..sssh..it's okay..it's okay.."

The child, ' _Mathieu_ ', Gilbert reminded himself, was sobbing quietly into the crook of Francis' neck, tiny fingers clutching at his shoulders, flushed just as red as Francis' cheeks used to get whenever he was angry or had been crying and Gilbert just laughed at the absurdity of it all.

Francis' glanced down at the sound, his eyes, _beautiful blue eyes_ , locking with Gilbert's. Gilbert got up, staring at him helplessly, not quite knowing what to say, what to do, how to end this already terribly awkward situation-

"My-that child sure does not hide his emotions.'

Silence. Francis just blankly, horribly staring at him. Gilbert forced his lips into a grin, even though he'd rather tear them off right know, seal them shut forever.

"Passionate. Very passionate, must've gotten it from his father."

While it hadn't been confirmed, it was not exactly an entirely wild guess either. Gilbert saw it in the way he was holding the child, like a lioness protecting her cub, he found proof in their shared golden hair and sparkling blue eyes.

He felt like he was Atlas and the earth finally dropped of his shoulders when Francis hesitantly smiled back while gently stroking Mathieu's hair, kissing the top of his head before putting him down. The child whined, clutching Francis' leg, staring up at Gilbert in fear.

"Sorry I scared ya, buddy." Gilbert said softly, finding it a lot easier to talk to the child than to his former friend. Francis sighed, shaking his head, cupping his child's cheek.

"Why don't you go find Uncle Toni while I have a little chat with _monsieur_ Gilbert here, huh?"

Both old friends listened to the soft pitter patter of Mathieu's bare feet as he ran away from them, Gilberts heart fluttering more than he would admit at Francis' use of his name, before they turned to one another.

Francis had aged differently than Antonio, not less graceful, far from that, but he now carried himself with an air of maturity that had not been there before. He still had that slender, slightly feminine build, covered in a slight tan that Gilbert was sure he had acquired in a tanning bed. His hair was still that same shade of dark blonde, carefully styled curls framing his face. His face was as defined as it had been before, high cheekbones and a sharp jawline covered in a slight stubble, but Gilbert noticed that the freckles, spots and other 'imperfections' as Francis had sometimes called them, were nowhere to be seen, either skilfully covered up or removed, and it stirred more inside him than he had expected it would.

"Gilbert." Francis' voice interrupted his thoughts and Gilbert immediately snapped his head up from where it had been staring at Francis' hand, manicured nails but no wedding ring. _No wedding ring!_ He mentally slapped himself. _Jesus Gilbert, pull yourself together._

Francis' lips curled into something of a knowing smile before he stepped towards Gilbert, filling Gilberts nostrils with a heavy flowery scent. " _Bonjour!_ " He said softly, embracing Gilbert lightly, nothing like the intimate hugs they had once shared.

Gil awkwardly placed one hand on Francis' back, rubbing it slightly, resisting the urge to step back. He cursed himself for being so afraid to touch the person he had once called his best friend, it was not like he was going to snap Francis' wrists or mess up his hair or crinkle his satin blouse like the man was a goddamn porcelain doll.

"Hey Fran, long time no see, _eh_? What's it been? 4 years or something?"

"6 years." Francis sighed, tucking a blond curl behind his ear as he pulled back. " _But,_ " He said, cocking his head, looking up at Gilbert through golden eyelashes. "I have to say, you do look exactly the same as you did back then. Have you found the famous fountain of youth they speak of, or do you just suffer from having a permanent baby face?"

"Careful, _princess_ ," Gilbert chuckled, the old nickname slipping of his tongue without thinking. "At least I ain't the one with a kid at 32."

At Francis' blank expression, he quickly stuttered. "He _is_ yours, right?"

"Oui, he is." Francis said, staring at some point on the wall behind Gilbert, his expression difficult to read.

They heard growling sounds coming from further inside the house, accompanied by the crystal-clear laughter of a child, and Gilbert smirked, picturing Antonio pulling out his silliest of dog imitations in order to entertain the child, _Francis' child._ His head spun with the thought alone. Or maybe he was just high.

"So, _wow_!" He said, way too loud, _stupid awkward fuck_ , the shrill sound echoing throughout the hallway. "A kid, huh? I must say that out of the three of us, I did not expect you to be the first to settle down! That is, unless Antonio has a legion of kids hidden somewhere that I do not know about."

"Me neither." Francis said darkly, simply ignoring Gilbert's joke, effectively crushing the budding conversation.

Gilbert frowned at his feet, scratching his head. "Erm..so do you want me to drop this _or_ -"

" _Non_ , it's fine." Francis said abruptly. "I'm being stupid. Mathieu is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Gilbert wondered for a moment if he should ask about any other parent, but one look at Francis' face told him he should leave the subject for now.

"So, _obviously_ ," Francis spoke again, "A lot has happened in those six years. To all of us."

I don't know about Toni or me but what the fuck happened to you, _obviously,_ Gilbert thought bitterly.

"I suggest we talk it out over a glass of wine, let's go find Antonio."

Francis' hand clutched his forearm and for a second Gilbert was back in a world of _cheap strawberry ice-cream, weed in tiny zip lock bags and make-out sessions in the parking lot_ before the fingers left his arm and Francis walked away from him, and he could only follow like a moth drawn toward a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papa's petit garcon = daddy's little boy


	3. Wine Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis struggles with some unresolved hard feelings. Antonio tries to keep things peaceful. Gilbert wondered why he even came.

The wine was bittersweet in his mouth, the crystal glass was empty as he placed it back on the heavy wooden coffee table. The looks from his former best friends that followed next were somewhat worried and, in Francis' case, disapproving.

"Easy on the booze,  _amigo_!' Antonio laughed heartily, leaning over from his spot on the couch to pat Gilbert, seated in a rocking chair with ugly Tartan cushioning, on the shoulder. Francis only cocked an eyebrow, lightly swirling his own, almost full, glass around, pinkish wine gushing against the brim.

"I'll be fine, Toni." Gilbert smirked, gesturing to Toni's half empty glass. "You better keep up."

Antonio grinned, shaking his head. "You truly are incorrigible."

"Incorrigibly  _awesome_ , you mean." Gil said, running a cocky hand through his hair, leaning back in the rocking chair, putting his feet on the table next to his wine glass. Antonio raised his glass in a sort of toast, before he took a big sip. Gilbert cackled at his face scrunched up in distaste. "That bad?"

Antonio coughed, groaning as he put his head in his hands. "Why in the world did we drink this stuff?"

"Fran liked it, I believe." Gilbert laughed, smile faltering a bit when he saw Francis stare at his nails in disinterest. Antonio noticed it too, Gil saw a frown crossing his face before he quickly changed it into a playful smile.

"Ah, I remember," He said nostalgically, leaning towards Francis, catching his attention, twirling a golden lock around his finger. "You thought it made you  _oh so_   _sophisticated_."

The corners of Francis' lips quirked slightly at the affectionate gesture, a little crack in a stony façade, and he leaned into the touch for a moment. " _Oui_  , I did, I forced you to drink it all the time, didn't I?"

Antonio laughed, tangling his fingers in Francis' hair. "Remember when in high school, the two of us drank an entire bottle before History class, just because you thought I needed liquid courage to ask Michelle out?"

Francis snorted into his wine glass as Antonio punched his shoulder slightly.

"Yes, that was  _your_  fault! The only response she gave me was ' _Do you want to sit down for a bit?_ '' Toni said, raising his voice in feigned offense. "Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

Francis now let out a laugh, an ugly guffaw that used to be Gilbert's favourite sound in the whole world. "I know! You could barely stand on your feet, it was awful!"

"Why'd you let me- Why'd you let me do it!?" Toni all but yelled, repeatedly interrupting himself with his own breathless laughter.

"Because I was horrible. I was a horrible person, I'm sorry!" Francis giggled, leaning into Toni, wrapping one arm around his neck, the wine in his other hand threatening to spill over the brim, on the woollen rug on the floor.

Gilbert watched as the two of them laughed together, falling back onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. He felt a spark of jealousy shoot through him, not because he was once again faced with the harsh reality that Toni and Fran had been friends way before they met him, he had been through that often enough, but because Toni still possessed the ability to make Fran come loose, make him act somewhat like he used to, receiving hugs and healthy doses of snarky humour while all Gilbert got were raised eyebrows, pursed lips and some uncertain obligatory touches when he had entered the house. It honestly pissed him off more than it should, as Francis had often had his moments when they were in college, throwing tantrums, causing them to get into arguments and sometimes ignoring him for weeks, but this time it stung more than 'usual'. He knew how to handle Francis when he was in college, the snobby senior who had tried almost every beauty product from the nearest drugstore, who used to scream at him all red faced, messy bun bobbing on his head as he underlined all his heavily accented arguments with passionate movements. He did not know how to handle this newer, 'mature' version of Francis though, well dressed and impeccable, living in an expensive house, raising a cute kid, expressing his disdain almost fully through body language, having to use nothing but one look to make Gilbert feel like he was a village that had just been burned to the ground.

After a moment or two, Antonio snatched the wine glass from Francis' dangling hand, taking a sip from it before offering it to Fran again. As Francis caught the glass, he composed himself, moving away from Antonio, slipping back into the role of a pissed off housewife before locking eyes with Gilbert, who was awkwardly watching them from across the room.

"It was hilarious. I wished you could've seen it, Gil." He said coolly, smirking slightly, acknowledging Gilbert's presence by tipping the wine glass at him but refraining from taking a sip as if it was a deadly poison that Gil had brought into his house. As Francis leaned back on the couch, curling his slender legs up underneath him, staring at Gill with a disgustingly smug expression, while Antonio just rolled his eyes at Fran's antics but did not stop him, Gilbert wished it was indeed some dangerous brew in that glass instead of a pretentious cheap pink juice.

"Yeah, what a  _shame_." He said less than enthusiastically, reaching for the wine bottle, refilling his glass once again. He noted with triumph that Francis had resumed to looking pissed once again, clearly not happy with this snarky response. ' _What, did you really think I'd let you walk all over me like I am a damn runway?'_  Gilbert thought to himself, giving Francis a hard look.

Antonio watched uncomfortably as both of his friends raised their glass to their lips, Francis to take a small pretentious sip that made Gilbert want to throw the contents of his glass all over that shiny purple blouse, and Gilbert to almost down the entire thing causing Francis' eyebrows to almost disappear into his hairline.

"So," He said cheerfully, clapping his hands, smiling at Gilbert. "Let's catch up, shall we? That's what we're here for, after all. Gilbert, what has the  _awesome you_  been up to all these years? Did you become a historian after all?"

Another reason that Gilbert's wasn't keen on reunions, was that he was forced to admit his life, save for these great two years at university, had been a failure up until now.

"I quit History a few months into the new semester." He muttered, studying a vase with yellow tulips on a drawer behind Toni's ear, deciding to leave the  _after you two had left_  out, because even in his ears it sounded too pathetic.

"Aw, that's.. unfortunate." Antonio said carefully, eyeing Gilbert with pity, while Francis just blankly stared at him as if he'd expected Gilbert to fail, which he, knowing Francis, probably did.

" _Nein_ , not really. It was all boing stuffy crap anyway." Gilbert laughed, putting up a harsh, careless façade while in reality he could barely get the insult of what used to be his favourite subject, his great passion, past his lips.

" Did you finish a another programme then?" Antonio said curiously.

"Nope. Turns out university was nothing for me, after all." This lie slipped from his lips a lot easier, so much smoother that Toni even seemed to believe it. Then again, Toni always had been naïve, he would probably believe Gilbert, sweat stains on his ratty Cannibal Corpse t-shirt, ripped jeans, dirty converse, unkempt hair, was a multimillionaire instead of a hopeless alcoholic if Gil told him.

" _Well_ , what do you do then?' Francis drawled, not even feigning interest, which made Gilberts blood boil and Antonio throw Francis a warning look. Francis was lot harder to lie to, and Gilbert wrung his sweaty hands together before he decided to just tell the truth.

"I've actually got a job interview next Wednesday."

Toni gave him a surprised look before clapping his hands in delight. "Oh Gil that's..  _great_!" Francis only gave him a stiff nod.

"Yeah totally.." Gilbert said, shrugging before drinking up the last wine in his glass.

"I am so proud of you!" Antonio said, shuffling around on the couch awkwardly, toying with the hem of his own shirt, displaying his tanned, muscular arms. "So uhm… how is your brother? Lucas?"

Unfortunately, Gilbert's anger, directed for some part at Francis but mostly himself, and the sole frustration of being trapped in a room with two people he grew very distant of, only being strengthened by the various units of alcohol he had drank throughout the night, had decided to out itself on his forgetful-but-still-trying-to-be-kind friend.

"Jesus Christ Toni, did your brain turn into even more of a sieve than it was back in university?" He snapped, causing his ex-friends to stare at him blankly. "It's Lud-wig.  _Mein Gott_ , why do you even try to be interested when you obviously don't know shit."

Antonio frowned. "Well  _mierda_ Gilbert, I'm sorry. It's been six years man, cut me some slack."

" _Oh_  I bet you know every one of Francis' fucking family members just  _fine_." Gilbert hissed, slamming his glass down on the table.

Antonio threw his hands up in frustration. "What is that even supposed to  _mean_? Geez Gil, calm down.  _Lo siento, mi amigo_. I forgot okay?  _I'm sorry_."

"Oh,  _please_ " Gilbert laughed, a harsh angry sound bouncing off the yellowish walls of the living room, eyes wandering over the third person in the room who was currently lounging on the couch, watching the scene play out before him "It's not  _your_  apology I need."

His anger turned into something else, a little itch in his fingers, some drool in his mouth. He stuck his hand in his back pocket, pulling out a squashed packet of Marlboro's. He already had one between his lips when a sharp voice cut the awkward silence. " _Not in the house_!"

"Why do you care? You smoke like a fucking chimney" He spat at Francis, who was glaring angrily at him from across the room.  _A glowing cigarette between pink lips, feet dangling off the bridge, bright stars in the dark sky, blue eyes sparkling up at him in mischief-_

"I quit." Francis snapped. "One year after I graduated. Now put it away or leave. The smell can't be in the house."

_I wish you had quit being a bitch, but of course that would be impossible wouldn't it? There would be nothing left,_ Gilbert thought to himself _._  "Guess I'll leave then."

Gilbert had only half risen from the rocking chair when Antonio's hand tightened around his wrist.

"Gilbert no _, stay_. Guys,  _please._  We're all friends here, no?"

Toni's pleading expression was so pitiful that Gil actually sat back down. "Calm down a bit, take a seat, relax, have a drink."

Gilbert watched as Antonio refilled his glass before laying the pack of cigarettes next to it, solely to annoy Francis who glared at it hungrily while tightening his already firm grip around his glass.

"Okay  _so,_ " Toni sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Let's continue where we had left off. We were talking about Gilbert's life-"

"I'm surprised you remembered that." Gilbert muttered, causing Toni to give him a dark look before continuing.

"So Fran, why don't you ask Gilbert a question next,  _hmm?_  I'm sure you two have a lot to tell each other." He laid one hand on Francis' own, which was balled into a fist,  _no wedding ring._

"Okay, fine." Francis said boredly, putting his wine glass away, running a hand through his hair before locking eyes with Gilbert. "You got a lover?"

Both Antonio and Gilbert were thrown off by the direct question. " _What_?"

Francis huffed impatiently. "A boyfriend? Girlfriend? Anything you fuck?"

" _Dios Mio, Francis_.." Antonio sighed while Gil angrily took a large sip of his drink before answering.

"Yes, in fact I do. Her name is Elizaveta, she's awesome and she fucks  _quite nicely_ , in case you want to know." He did not know if Lizzy actually qualified as a girlfriend, but the mention of her name combined with the mental image of Gilbert fucking this girl made the corners of Francis' mouth droop just a little bit lower, so it was worth it.

"If you talk about all of your girlfriends that way, it's a miracle that you even have one." He snarled, crossing his arms and legs, blue eyes spitting icy cold fire. Gilbert tried his best not to smirk like an idiot at Francis acting like a jealous child, even though the thought that Fran still cared for him somewhere filled him with glee.

They were distracted by Antonio raising his glass to his lips, downing the entire thing before reaching for more, as if desperately trying to drink himself to death in order to escape the situation.

"Toni, if we're going to get drunk," Francis snapped, completely failing to acknowledge the already quite intoxicated German that was also present, "it's not gonna be on trash rosé. I'll get you something better."

Both friends watched as Francis walked away. Gilbert tore his eyes away from the sway of Francis' hips to see Antonio curled up on the couch, massaging his temples. "Hey-," He said awkwardly, scratching his head. " 'm sorry man. Didn't mean to insult ya."

"It's okay Gil. " Antonio groaned. "I just don't get what's going on. We all used to get along so nicely, why all the hard feelings?"

Gilbert ran a finger along the rim of his glass, suddenly aware his flushed cheeks and slightly wavering vision. "Dunno, 's just, it's been a long time and I mean, what the  _fuck_  crawled up his ass and died?" He slurred, gesturing angrily in the direction Francis had went.

"He's been through a lot, Gil." Antonio said softly, glaring nervously in the same direction.

"Oh and of course he did tell you,  _didn't he_? Gave ya some good explanation as to why he lives in this large ugly ass house in Berlin of all places, why he decided he was gonna let some doctor laser the shit out of his 'naturally beautiful face' and why the  _fuck_  he has a fucking  _kid_  and we're all supposed to ignore that fact!  _God_ , I'm starting to wonder why you even bothered to invite me." Gil said furiously.

Antonio opened his mouth to reply when Francis' walked into the room again. The large brown bottle hit the coffee table with a heavy thud and Gilbert and Antonio gawked at it. " _Shit_ , that's expensive dude." Gilbert breathed.

"Whiskey? That's not yours, is it? Franny, are you sure that-" Antonio asked worriedly but Francis cut him off.

"It's ours now. Now let yourselves go, Arthur won't mind." 


	4. Engel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a reunion gone wrong, Gilbert, drunk with rage but also just really drunk in general, tries to find comfort in his not-quite girlfriend.

His fist went through the window of the vintage Ford with a crack. " _Ffff-ffuck_." He stammered in his drunken rage as he saw bright red blood on his hand. "Fuuuck you, Arthur." He stumbled away, almost bumping into Toni's Seat before making it onto the lawn. The stars moved around in the sky and everything seemed to be in slow-motion. His hands steadied themselves against the plastered wall of Francis' house as he emptied his stomach in the rose bushes. Gilbert watched as the colourful mix of wine, whiskey and cheesecake disappeared between the tender white buds, wondering for a second if Francis would mind but deciding that in his intoxicated state, he did not care.

He collapsed on the lawn, right to an ugly garden gnome. He glared at the thing, all rosy cheeks and happy smiles with an incredibly stupid basket of flowers and probably bought by Arthur. He groaned and rolled onto his back. Other than the stars in the ink black sky, the only light was coming from the top left window of Francis' house. Gil squinted his eyes, trying to spot a shadow, a moving curtain, or any other sign of Francis, but his head hurt too much to properly focus. He wiggled a cigarette out of his pocket, watching as it lit up in the dark night, puffing out thick clouds of smoke as he imagined Francis behind the window, slender naked body curled up underneath white silk sheets-

* * *

_Wanton moans and trembling hands, sweaty leather upholstery and golden hair splayed around like a halo and ah, ah, aaah~, oui, baise-moi Gilbert, mon Dieu-_

* * *

The ceramic turquoise eyes of the garden gnome seemed to be judging him and Gilbert removed his hand from his pants to punch the damn thing as if it were the very cause of his miserable state. After pressing his cigarette into the shattered remains of the gnomes face, he got to his feet and walked away from the crime scene and onto the street.

He followed the wavering path of concrete tiles for a few moments until he almost fell down the stairs of the metro station. He lit another cigarette, watching as the smoke swirled out of his mouth and into the open air before descending into the underground, stumbling through the too brightly lit station, watching as random people surrounded him, moving to their destinations whereas he had none, just wandering aimlessly, wondering when he'd reach the tracks. His phone buzzed in his back pocket and he ended the call without even looking at the screen, already able to hear Ludwig's worried screeching.

When he reached the tracks, the spot was taken by a train, so he tossed his cigarette in between vehicle and platform before he got in, hoisting himself into one of the plastic seats, staring up at German job advertisements on the ceiling. The blond man smiling down at him, wearing a suit and holding a laptop, reminded him of Ludwig.

"Ah, Lutz, you ought to smile more often ." He drunkenly stated, winking at the poster. After a couple of minutes of just letting himself be thrown around in his seat by the shaking train, closely watched by the Ludwig-clone on the ceiling, the metallic female voice announced that they were arriving at a familiar street. Deciding that he had nothing to lose, Gilbert almost crawled through the opening doors and into the night.

* * *

Elizaveta was wearing sweatpants and a lopsided ponytail when she opened the door. " _Gilbert what the fu_ -"

He silenced her with a kiss, sloppy and uncoordinated but effective, he wrapped his arms around her and drank in the smell of Liz, probably the only girl in the world who wore  _Axe Marine_  as a perfume. Their lips moved hungrily against one another for a moment, Lizzy trying her best to steady the both of them, but still repeatedly bumping into the doorpost before they stumbled inside.

As Elizaveta broke the kiss the lock the heavy apartment door behind them, Gilbert let out a noise that could only by qualified as a starved whine. "Eliza-ah!"

She let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head at him. "Oh my  _God_ , you are fucking plastered! What is wrong with you, man?" Gilbert didn't answer, instead falling back against the wall with a thud. She moved toward him and in his intoxicated state Gilbert found her tall stature and fiery green eyes even more intimidating than usual.

"Why the  _fuck_  would you come here?! The neighbours could've seen you!" She scolded him, firmly pushing him back into the wall.

"I'm sorry! Didn't mean to.. I just need.." He stammered, racking his brains for the right words, an explanation as to why he had risked their entire relationship by coming to her doorstep, but the words just seemed to disappear. "I just need….Liz- _baby,_  I just.." His voice was all croaky and he was pretty sure there were tears in his eyes, because Lizzy ran a soothing thumb over his cheek, her expression softening.

"What's wrong, Gilly?"

The gesture of comfort, combined with her motherly concern all proved too much, and Gilbert just buried his face in her neck before letting out a choked sob. " _Lizzyy.._!"

Her soft voice was close to his ear, he could feel it vibrating through her chest. "Hey.. _hey_..Gilbert..calm down, okay? You're just a bit drunk, that's all. You want anything? Sit down for a little bit? Have some water?"

"No..I just want-" He turned his head to catch her pink lips with his own, but she moved away once she felt the bulge in his pants, frowning.

"You're drunk."

" _Please_!"

Elizaveta's eyes, a brownish green, crescent shaped mascara stains underneath them, studied his pleading expression, before her expression hardened in determination, implying she'd made her decision. "You're lucky Roderich ain't home."

* * *

_"Oh my god, Gil!"_

_Gilbert let out a growl as he roughly snapped his hips against her, angrily fisting his hands in the sheets on both sides of her head. Elizaveta moaned at a particularly sharp thrust and Gilbert's head buzzed with furious excitement and arousal as he fucked away the last reminders of their words and faces-_

* * *

"He's got a kid."

He barely even knew how they had ended up on the bed, but all that mattered was that he was here now, exhaling smoke as he stroked Eliza's soft brown hair. She turned his head to look at him from where she had been lying against him, curled up and naked.

"Him..being one your friends at college, right?" She asked, running her hand over his chest.

He almost winced at his own voice, no more than a cracked whisper. "More than a friend _-to me at least,_ don't know about him anymore." He tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear as he continued. "He's living the dream, you know. Large house, only having to work some stupid job at a fashion store because he's living of his boyfriends money."

"And then there's  _that_." He snapped, frustratedly throwing the cigarette stub into the ashtray on the nightstand." _The boyfriend_ , Arthur's his name. He's like, an employee at the English embassy, I believe. That's why Fran and his precious little Mathieu are living in Berlin in the first place. Trust Francis to dig up some stuffy little Englishman from somewhere, while there are perfectly fine men and women falling at his feet in bushes."

Elizaveta snickered, fishing the crumpled condom from where Gil had tossed it in between the sheets. "The perfectly fine men being just you?" She said, raising an eyebrow, dangling the thing in front of his face in order to illustrate her point.

"Better then  _him_ , at least." He snarled, smacking her hand away. "The man has decorated his home like we're still living in the 50's. He's not even allowing people to smoke in the house, he probably forced Fran to quit."

"So you've not even met him?" Elizaveta said, lying down on his chest again after disposing of the condom, allowing Gilbert to run his hands over the curve of her curled up body.

"No, but the guy has turned Francis into this stuck up little bitch that hates me, and that says enough about him to me." Gilbert spat.

"You don't know that," Eliza spoke soothingly, fingers wandering down his chest to his stomach. "You have not seen eachother in a long time, you don't know what else happened. Last time I checked two men weren't able to conceive a kid."

" _I_  could've taken care of his kid!" Gilbert all but yelled, completely missing the point, showing the last remains of his drunken rage.

"Of course you could, now quit yelling you dumbass, the neighbours will hear." Elizaveta deadpanned, digging her nails into his skin for a moment, causing Gilbert to gasp at the stinging pain.

"They've already heard  _you_  screaming my name for like twenty minutes." Gilbert shot back, smirking, causing Elizaveta to roll away from him.

"I'm sorry." He said to her angry back after a moment. "I'm a pig, I know." He crawled towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss into her hair. "You can strike me if you want."

She half turned towards him, firmly cupping his face with one hand. "You are about as sensitive as a rock, you know that?" Her voice was angry, but the corners of her mouth quirked up and Gilbert let out an apologetic laugh before he kissed her again, this time on the lips.

"I know babe, I'm sorry."

"I'm  _not_  your babe." Elizaveta said surprisingly firmly.

Gilbert grinned as he peppered her face with kisses. "Yes you are! You're my itty-bitty Lizzy baby.  _Mein Schatz, Engel, Bärchen_."

Eliza chuckled as she pushed his face away. "You're such a creep!"

She screamed as Gilbert then proceeded to do a creepy laugh, along with running his fingers down her side and she squirmed, giggling, kicking her bare feet at him. "Gil, stop it!"

He ended up on top of her, kissing her with such enthusiasm any other person would struggle to keep up, but Liz had no problem doing that, actually ending up dominating the kiss. They kissed for a long time, Gilbert just enjoying the slight sting of Lizzy's fingers tugging on his hair and the comfort of her soft curves before eventually he fell into a deep, hazy sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oui, baise-moi Gilbert, mon Dieu-: yes, fuck me Gilbert, my God-  
> Mein Schatz, Engel, Bärchen: My darling, angel, little bear


	5. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert's unlucky love life strikes again.

When he woke up, Gilbert found himself in an empty bed. Though it had not been the first time he had slept over at Eliza’s house, the events of last night seemed so unreal that hadn’t been for the warm spot and crumpled sheets beside him,  it would not have occurred to him that he had indeed slept with her. His naked body felt cold against the thin sheets and as soon as he sat up, he was struck by a pounding headache. He groaned as he swung his thin legs over the edge of the bed, large feet hitting the floor with a thud.

The room he was in was more Roderich than Elizaveta, large windows with thick curtains, sparkling chandelier hanging off of the ceiling, polished wooden floor and a few large flowery plants. If it weren’t for the bright orange bong sitting on one of the nightstands, one ought to think that Eliza did not even live here. He stumbled towards the bathroom, catching a glimpse of his reflection, pale, tired and bruised, in the mirror, before opening the medicine cabinet. It was a miracle that Roderich did not wonder where all of his Paracetamol went, Gilbert smirked to himself, cracking open another bottle of pills.

* * *

 

After he’d returned to the bedroom to gather his clothes, which were scattered all over the floor, Gilbert walked into the kitchen, where he was greeted by the smell of bacon and eggs and the Hungarian tittering of a female reporter on the radio. Elizaveta stood with her back turned towards him, firm legs sticking out from underneath an oversized t-shirt, humming softly as she cracked another egg on the edge of the pan. She cursed in surprise as he snaked his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her hair.

“ _Gutenmorgen, Maus_.” He muttered against her neck.

She snorted. “Quit the creepy German pet names already.” 

“What do Hungarians say then?” Gilbert said “What do you call our Roddy-dear?”

Her cheeks flushed uncharacteristically red at the mention of the name, but Gilberts hungover vision was still a bit blurry, so he also could’ve imagined it.  “ _Drágám_.” She said curtly, avoiding his gaze.

“That just sounds like you threw up in your mouth.” Gilbert teased, squeezing her hips lightly. She moved out of his grip, scooping the bacon out of the frying pan.

“Oh shut up. How many eggs you want?”

‘’Two’s just fine, ma’am.”

She turned around, handing him a plate, chuckling as he wolfed down on her food as soon as he sat at the counter. “How are you feeling?

“Peachy.” He mumbled in between bites, trying to ignore his throbbing temples and churning stomach, cheeks reddening in embarrassment when he recalled himself crying like a child in Elizaveta’s arms last night.  “I hope I didn’t embarrass myself too much last night.” He laughed. “I know I can get a bit silly when I’m drunk.”

She was silent for a moment, before she moved to stand on the other side of the counter. “Gil,” She said gently, leaning forward, placing her elbows on the counter, strands of light brown hair falling over her shoulders, looking up at him through long dark lashes. “I just wanted to say that..From what it sounds like..this Francis does not sound like a nice person.” 

It felt like his stomach was suddenly filled with bricks. “Hey! Easy on my friends, Liz!”  He said sharply.

“Well, _sorry_ but-“ Elizaveta started, reaching for his hand, which was balled in a tight fist next to his plate.

“You don’t even know him.” Gilbert spat angrily, drawing his arm away from her. “You don’t know what he’s like!”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise at his sudden aggression and she stepped back, raising her hands in defence. “I just wanted to say that you deserve better!”  After she received nothing but Gilbert crossing his arms and giving her an angry look, she continued, less confident but still determined. “You should not beat yourself up over him being with that Arthur you speak of, because I’m sorry Gil, but it sounds like he treats you like shit. You don’t need that.”

Gilbert dug his ragged nails into his palms, looking up at his not-quite girlfriend, anger flashing in his red eyes. “Don’t tell me what I need, because you don’t know! And what are you even saying dude? You make it sound like I’m _jealous_ or somethin’.”

She threw her hands up, letting out a loud sigh. “You spent an hour crying over the man! Oh my god, _Gilbert!_ ”

“I was drunk, okay? All I said, it don’t mean a thing!” 

She put her hands on her hips, staring at him in disbelief. “Okay _fine_ , be that way. I just don’t want you to let yourself be used, to lose your heart to someone who will only break it!”

Gilbert cackled, harsh and cynical. “Well thank _fuck_ you are protecting me. It would be so nasty if there would be another someone who was be toying with my feelings, right?”

Eliza got an ugly expression on her face, lips twisting in a sneer. “Oh, _fuck off_. We came to a clear agreement before we started this, I never promised you love.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I know very well all of that is reserved for your precious _Roddykins,_ while you leave the fucking to me. You know, I should ask for a pay check next time!” Gilbert snarled.

Elizaveta snatched his plate from him, even though it was only half-eaten, slamming it down in the sink. “Maybe you should! That way your lazy ass could finally earn some money!”

Tense silence followed, Lizzy scrubbing Gil’s plate with more force than necessary while Gilbert just sat at the counter, picking at his nails, not even as angry as he was at Eliza and the things she said as he was at himself for getting so riled up over her insulting someone who treated him like he was dog poop stuck at the bottom of his fancy dress shoe.               

The plate fell back into the sink with a metallic clang. When she turned towards him, her eyes spat fire. ‘You know what?”

He actually winced as she slammed her hand down on the counter, hard. “Look at it.” She ordered sharply, and Gilbert later wished he did not, which was useless because it was not like he then could pretend nothing ever happened and it did not even matter because of course he looked at it, like the masochistic fool who liked to get pushed around by his lovers he was. “I did not want to tell you last night because you were so upset, but since you are here all pretending that you’re perfectly fine, _here ya go_.”

The ring was simple but stunning, a thin silver band bearing a blue stone which almost sparkled as much as Elizaveta’s large green eyes did with malice as she spoke the next sentence, delivered her final blow. “He finally found the courage to propose to me last week, so you’re going to have to get your next “ _pay checks_ ” from anybody but me.”

* * *

 

Gilbert did not even know how he ended up in the hallway outside of the apartment, breathing hard, trying not to collapse on the marble tiles. He checked his pockets, _cigarettes, lighter, phone, keys ,wallet, check._ He heard the door open, it was like he could almost feel her slightly panicked breathing, he did not even have to turn around to see her standing there, barefoot and red-faced  “Gilbert..”

He kept his face, flushed and tear streaked,  turned away from her, he would not allow her to see what an impact her words had on him, he did not need another ex-lover to know that.

 “I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, forgiving, pleading for him to come inside, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

“It’s fine, Liz.” He said in a hollow voice, refusing to turn towards her. “It had to happen eventually.”

“W-we can still be friends, right?” Her voice cracked slightly, so unlike her usual sharp pitch.

Gilbert had never felt as dead inside as he did right now, but he still forced himself to throw a quick look over his shoulder, staring into her tear-filled gaze.  “Sure.”

“You know, Gilbert, you’re a really great guy. I hope you find someone good to love.” The shaky-voiced sincere confession honestly was the last thing Gilbert wanted to hear because it only reminded him of how one-sided, _once again,_ his love had been.

“Yeah me too, thanks.”

“Take care!” She uncertainly called after him as he bowed his head and walked away, too numb to even fight against upcoming tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maus = Mouse  
> Drágám = Dear/Darling/Sweetheart


	6. Tick Tock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rowdy night, Gilbert returns home to his brother. He also answers a nasty phone call.

"Yo, Lutz!" Ludwig did not even look up from his laptop as Gilbert stomped into the living room of their small shared apartment.

" _Hallo_  Gilbert." He sighed tiredly. Gilbert watched his brother work for a minute, thick strong fingers flying over the keyboard with such speed it sounded like a machine gun going off.

" _Ratatatatatata_!" Ludwig raised one eyebrow over his square glasses at the sight of his brother waving his hands around the room pretending to shoot imaginary people. He stopped as soon as he caught sight of Ludwig's annoyed expression, pale lips curling into a relaxed smile. "Oh c'mon lil bro, loosen up a bit, will ya!"

"I'm sorry Gilbert, but someone has to play the adult here." Ludwig grumbled, pushing his glasses further onto his nose, huffing in annoyance as his head bobbed and they slid back again when Gilbert forcefully flopped down on the couch beside him.

"What you doing? Work?" Gilbert asked curiously, the bags under Ludwig's eyes sparking some slight concern in him.

Ludwig nodded, rubbing his temples. " _Ja_ ,  _und_  it's horrible. I have to continue my work at home this week in order to make sure all reports are finished."

"The fuck, they can't make you do that!" Gilbert said indignantly, firmly gripping his brothers shoulder. "You look like you haven't slept in a week!"

"Oh  _they can_ , believe me." Ludwig said, grimacing. "They can replace me with a thousand others and our bills need to get paid."

" _Damn_ , work really sucks, it sounds like!" Gilbert said, putting his feet on their glass coffee table.

"It does." Ludwig confirmed, using his foot to push Gilbert's legs off the clear surface, all the while typing away on his computer. "Now if only there was another pay check so I wouldn't have to work far past my usual hours in order to get some groceries in the fridge.."

The conversation ended there, Gilbert staring guiltily at his hands in his lap, all skin and bone, ragged fingernails and a large bloody crust on the back of his left hand, while Ludwig ignored him, tired blue eyes flashing over large amounts of text.

"That bad, Luddy?" Gilbert said after a moment, and his voice was so uncharacteristically small that Ludwig's head actually turned towards him.

"Well," He said, not unkindly but quite serious. "I manage to get by, but it's a close call. I fear that if there's not going to be some other sort of.." He vaguely gestured toward Gilbert, "..income soon, we will have to use the money  _Opi_  has left us for support."

Gilbert winced as he thought of his share of Opi's money, which was now nothing but cigarette stubs in the gutter and empty bottles stuffed in the trashcans of Berlin. The poor old man would probably be spinning in his grave if he knew Gilbert had just traded the last bills of his dear inheritance to some shady Dutch dealer behind the pizzeria for a few grams of a plant.

"You know Ludwig I-" He started, but Ludwig interrupted him. "We could also sell  _Opi'_ s clock, ofcourse." Gilbert followed his gaze to where it was set on an ugly wooden cuckoo clock, decorated with golden curls and old-fashioned paintings of flowers.

"No we can't! You love that thing!" He exclaimed, staring at his younger brother in surprise. Opi had given the clock to Ludwig at a very young age, he had trusted the fifteen year old boy more with his beloved heirloom than he had trusted the already adult Gilbert,  _and rightfully so_ , Gilbert thought gloomily to himself, as he was still unable to cook himself a proper meal at 29 while Ludwig worked a full time job and spent all his free time cleaning their kitchen and running their administration and generally having some sort of control over his life.

"Only if it's really necessary, I mean..A-and it's just a clock! It's an antique piece, if we put it on Ebay maybe we could.." Ludwig trailed trailed off before he eventually fell silent.

"Oh cheer up Lutz!" Gilbert said, jumping up from the couch, trying his best to ignore the way his brothers voice had shook and how his head was bowed in defeat. "Don't be silly, we won't let it get that far. Now, does my hard working brother want a beer?" He walked to the kitchen, or rather a fridge, a stove and a few counters that were stuffed in a corner of their living room, before he had to take another look at Ludwig's miserable face.

* * *

The last cans of beer, half a sixpack left still wrapped together in a half torn package sitting next to a lost cucumber and a box of eggs, were not that hard to find in an almost empty fridge. Gilbert was already halfway through his own when he handed Ludwig a can. His brother did not even raise an eyebrow at that, instead taking a large gulp of his own, letting bland beer stream down his throat.

"Where were you last night? I called you." He bluntly stated, closing his laptop.

"I had a reunion thingy, remember? I slept over at Roderich's."

Ludwig did look slightly confused at that, which wasn't that strange as most of their little family get togethers existed of Roderich and Gilber being at each other's throats for the entire evening.

"Roderich's? How is he doing?"

Gilbert shrugged, downing the rest of his beer in one big gulp. "Dunno. He's outta town for a few days, 's got a concert in Hamburg. I was with Elizaveta."

" _Elizaveta?_  I did not know you two were close like that." Ludwig stared past Gilbert, off into the distance, probably recalling numerous family dinners where Gilbert and Eliza barely acknowledged each other's presence, either staring at their hands in their lap, avoiding awkward eye contact, either politely making small talk with Ludwig (Elizaveta) or annoying Roderich with childish teasing and barely masked insults (Gilbert).

Gilbert pushed away the memories of sexual tension crackling between his own red and Liza's green eyes as they sat opposite one another while Roderich droned on and on about his violin, the accidental brush of his hand against her ass and how she had slightly leaned into him after that as they had gotten a slice of cake at the buffet table, and interrupted Ludwig's pondering by loudly squeezing his empty can.

"Ja,  _Elizaveta_. We hang out sometimes."  _Hung_ , a nasty little voice in his mind corrected him, but Gilbert ignored it and pointedly threw his beer can on the coffee table.

Ludwig took the hint and did not ask any more questions on the matter, instead grabbing the remote and switching on the TV. "Hertha's playing." He simply said, and Gilbert sat down next to his brother in relief, silently grateful that Ludwig always let him dodge all the hard questions and just moved on. After they had watched the football game for a few minutes however, Ludwig opened his mouth again. "How was your reunion?"

Gilbert mentally cursed,  _did he look that compelling then, that even his socially uncomfortable brother felt the need to maintain an awkward conversation?_  "It was fine, I guess." He said. "Antonio, you know, the Spanish one, works at a dance school." He cackled. " _Kessesese!_  Can you imagine? He spends his time teaching Zumba to fat horny old ladies who probably just want to stare at his ass all day!"

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thanks for the mental image, Gilbert."

"The other one, Francisy-pants, I'm sure you remember him, that fucking French fairy, he designs fashion now. Not for the money really, because he's got fucking _Arthur_ to take care of all that, but you know, just for fun. I wonder if he's got a nanny for little Mathieu, I wouldn't put it past him, to be honest. After all his nails could break while changing diapers, _kessesese_." He laughed harshly, causing Ludwig to wince slightly then give him a concerned look.

He rolled his eyes at Ludwig before stomping away from the couch. "Oh quit looking at me like that,  _mein Gott_. I'm in my room if you need me."

He barely heard Ludwig call after him: "Someone called for you this morning." before he shut the door behind his back.

* * *

_Beep..Beep..Beep.._

Gilbert curiously stared at the unknown number as smoke swirled all around him, drifting towards walls covered in so many posters of metal bands with aggressive names and bloody cover art that the outdated flowery wallpaper was barely visible, before disappearing through the opened window. Except for the small mechanic sounds of Gilbert's phone, nothing could be heard but the muffled sounds of Ludwig cooking in the kitchen and the clicking footsteps of people passing on the street below his window. He wrinkled his nose as the familiar smoky sweet smell spread through his bedroom, creeping into his lacy curtains and his football-themed bedspread, quickly spraying deodorant on his covers and pillows, praying that Ludwig wouldn't notice when he'd change them. As soon as he had put his Nivea Men deodorant back on his nightstand, a short click indicated that the person on the other side had picked up the phone.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt, _hallo_?"

" _You destroyed my car._ " Even though he had never heard it before, Gilbert did not need to hear a name in order to identify the angry British voice as Arthur Kirkland.

"Ah, yes..about that.." He said awkwardly but was fiercely cut off by the snarky voice.

" _You smashed the window of my Ford Taunus, you puked on our front lawn, in my rare rose bushes I might add, and after that you broke my garden gnome and violated the remains with a cigarette._ "

Gilbert took a deep drag from his joint, before gathering enough courage to respond. "Yeah I know man..I'm sorry, I was utterly smashed." He tried his best to sound apologetic, but while he had wrecked this unknown Brit's garden in a whim of drunken rage, only the drunkenness had gone away while the jealousy had remained, pooling toxically in his stomach, which made it hard to care at all.

" _Oh please, save me your pathetic excuses._ " Arthur said shrilly. Then much more gently, to someone who was there in the room with him: " _Cover your ears Mathew dear._ " When he spoke directly in the phone again, his voice was nothing more than a poisonous hissed whisper. " _Who the fuck do you think you are, exactly?_ "

"Yo dude, calm the  _fuck_  down, take a breath." Gilbert snapped, completely dropping the polite act, wildly moving his hands around as if Arthur were sitting on the bed beside him, covering the room in smoke. "A bit of politeness wouldn't hurt, you fucker. You should know, aren't you a diplomat or something?"

" _Yes I work at the British embassy, you twat._ " Arthur spat. " _Oh and please forgive me for not properly introducing myself, how rude of me. I truly believed introductions were not in order, since Francis has told me all about you._ " He continued jeeringly and Gilbert's fingers tightened around the phone. " _Aber Guten Abend, meine Name ist Arthur Kirkland, ich bin erfreut Sie zu lernen kennen. Ar-thur Kirk-land. Remember the name, you'll be hearing it a lot when I'm done filing my lawsuit against you_."

Gilbert froze, throwing a panicked look to no one in particular. "A  _lawsuit?_  Dude- I mean  _sir,_  isn't that a tad extreme? We can work this out,  _right_?"

" _We could come to an agreement of course._ " Arthur said politely. " _That'll be 400 euros for my window, and let's say..a 100 bucks for the whiskey you drank..I don't know exactly how much of it ended up in my rose bushes of course, but I can only guess how much of the bottle you greedily poured down your throat..oh and before I forget: 50 euros for a garden gnome I brought from England which held great emotional value. Now, if you did not follow, which I'm sure is the case, that'll be 550 euro please._ "

"550 euro.." Gilbert breathed before shaking another drag of his joint. "For some glass, puke and an ugly ceramic creature!? That is absolutely _insane_!" He heard Ludwig halt his movements in the kitchen at his angry shriek and he lowered his voice, hissing into the phone. " _550 fucking euro!?_  You know you can stuff that gnome up your English-"

" _Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?_ " Arthur said smugly, and even though Gilbert did not know what he looked like, he could practically hear the smirk creeping up the man's face. " _550 euro or a lawsuit, Mister Beilschmidt. Your pick._ "

"Okay fine you prick!" Gilbert snarled. "I'll give you your damn money!"

" _If I have not received the money by next Saturday, I will file a lawsuit against you for violation of property and also for all those nice little insults that I had the pleasure of receiving from you._ " Arthur said coldly. " _Oh and by the way, I expect you to transfer it to my bank account. I don't want you even near my house or Francis ever again._ "

"You can't do that! You can't tell me  _or_  him to do shit!" Gilbert said, outraged.

" _I sure can. But if it provides you any comfort, Francis did not really seem to care when I informed him of my wish. You scare him a bit, you know._ " Arthur said cruelly, spitting out the words like he was a venomous snake.

" _Fuck off_ , I don't believe a word that comes out of your cock-sucking mouth." Gilbert tried to sound intimidating, but it came out like more of a panicked cry.

Arthur didn't even respond, he just laughed, ridiculing Gilbert for being the pathetic child he was.

"Like, why the  _fuck_  do you even think you can prohibit Fran from doing anything at all? Is that some sick-ass fucked up thing you two have going on?" Gilbert shouted, not caring anymore about whether Ludwig heard it or not. "D'you get off of that?"

Arthur immediately stopped laughing, and Gilbert could hear him take some deep, angry breaths before he spoke into the phone again. " _What the fu-What-_ " Gilbert allowed himself a small smirk at Arthur's flustered stuttering. " _You are..absolutely vulgar, that's what you are! Just give me my money, you dickwad! And I sincerely hope that after that, we'll never ever come into contact again!_ "

It took a few seconds before Gilbert realised that Arthur had slammed the phone down. His joint was nothing more than a crumpled ashy pile in his hand.  _More money gone to shit._  As his brain caught up with him, Gilbert realized he had to come up with 550 euros from somewhere, as his empty pockets and bank account would not provide him with anything. He grabbed his deodorant, determined to keep spraying until the filthy smell had left his room and maybe until he had dropped dead too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aber Guten Abend, meine Name ist Arthur Kirkland, ich bin erfreut Sie zu lernen kennen. = But good evening, my name is Arthur Kirkland, I am pleased to meet you.


	7. The End Of An Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert goes out to apply for a job, and receives an unexpected present from a departing 'friend' on the way.

"Good luck, Gilbert!"

Gilbert hesitantly smiled at his brother who had bothered to walk him all the way to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, his saw his own face fall in the large mirror. When he had descended four stories and reached the ground floor, he walked out of the building and onto the pavements of his hometown; his neighbourhood, familiar plastered apartment buildings that had stood there long before the fall of the Wall, framing a broad concrete road where S-Bahn tracks wound their way through the city. He checked his phone. _10:30._  He still had half an hour before he had to be there, which was perfect.

He began walking, blending in with the other inhabitants of Pankow, large coats and bags, busily chattering into their cell phones. A girl strutted past him, her upturned nose and large sunglasses reminding him of Francis, her light brown hair pulled back into a swishing ponytail reminding him of Elizaveta. She carried a designer bag and wore gleaming black ankle boots with shiny clasps and Gilbert wondered how much 550 euro meant to her. It probably was 2 pairs of shoes, or a ring, or a bag full of make-up.

Most people saw 550 euro as a month's worth of groceries, or a plane ticket, a city trip, while Gilbert measured it in other units. He had already calculated it; 1740 cigarettes (87 packets of Marlboro Red), approximately 55 grams of weed (= 165 joints), 137-and-a-half six-packs of beer from Lidl (825 cans), 0,55 times the worth of Opi's cuckoo clock.

He really had to get that job , as 3 full days of him endlessly pondering in his bed while drinking beer and streaming Netflix from Elizaveta's (or actually Roderich's) account had already passed, and there still was no money in his pockets and the thought of selling the damn cuckoo clock began to sound more and more appealing.

* * *

It did not take long for him to find the man, he had barely walked into the alley and pushed past the cheap metal chairs of the Italian restaurant before he spotted him leaning against a heavily graffitied wall.

Had it not been for the way he was anxiously typing on a small black flip phone, one might think he was a curious tourist or lost hipster that had accidentally ended up there, long brown coat, black V-neck, stylishly cut khaki trousers stuffed into heavy Dr. Martens, blonde hair put up with an unhealthy amount of gel. He looked up as he heard Gilbert's own shuffling footsteps making their way towards him over slightly soppy concrete.

" _Beilschmidt_." His voice was just as unfazed as his dull, red-rimmed green eyes as he lazily raised one hand in greeting.

" Hey, Ned. " Gilbert greeted back halting a few metres before the man who was very keen on his personal space.

' _Wie gehst? Du siehst beschissen aus."_  He continued, staring at the way the Dutchmen was hunched over his cell phone, struggling to text properly as his fingers shook almost spastically

Ned stared at him as if he only just noticed Gilbert standing there, quickly stuffing his phone into one of the many large pockets of his coat. " _Mir gehst verdammt schlecht, danke._ " He muttered darkly.

Gilbert let out a humourless laugh. " _Hier gilt das Gleiche. Weißt du, ich frage mich immer noch warum du darauf bestehst Deutsch zu sprechen, es macht dich wie ein Betrunkener klingen._ "

Ned rolled his eyes, the large ragged scar on his forehead crumpling as he frowned. "Oh, shut up. It's better to blend in with the German masses you know, so the police won't start asking questions. Your albino ass ought to try that sometime." He snarled impatiently, throwing a panicked look over his shoulder

Gilbert raised his eyebrows at his dealers aggressive reaction, now that he noticed it, the man seemed to be swaying a little on his feet, even more stoned than he usually was, and his blood-shot eyes shot were constantly drawn towards the end of the alley.

"You better fix that ugly ass Dutch accent then or the cops are still gonna be pounding on your front door in no time." Gilbert shot back, moving closer to the man before whispering: "You okay, dude? You've got them on your tail or somethin'?"

"I'm fine, just give me the fucking money!" Ned hissed. "Quick!"

"Um yeah.. about that.." Gilbert said awkwardly, shuffling his feet. "I'm kinda broke man..I just wondered if I could pay you back later..just this once, I promise!" He stared at Ned expectantly, crossing his fingers, hoping the man would have mercy on him. His hope faltered when Ned glared at him angrily.  _Oh well, it was worth a try._

He was so surprised by the weight of the zip lock bag that was pushed into his hands that he almost forgot to catch it, he knelt down to the ground, grabbing onto it just in time, staring up at the Dutchman in confusion. "Ned, _my man_ , you know this is at least 50 times the amount of what I usually buy? I'd never be able to pay you back dude.."  _He'd couldn't afford to have another 600 euros of debt to someone he barely knew._

"Take it, just take it." Ned said, his normally emotionless voice unusually high-pitched. "And you know what.." He pushed his blue scarf aside shortly providing Gil with the view of large dark bruises splayed all over a pale thick neck, before fishing a tiny package, wrapped in aluminium foil, out of the front of his shirt, tossing it towards Gilbert. "Take  _this_  too!"

"The fuck man?" Gilbert laughed uncertainly, after he'd unwrapped it. "You know I don't do ecstasy!"

"Flush it down the toilet for all I care, just  _take it_!" Ned ordered.

"I got a job interview in 15 minutes man, I can't be walking around with a shit ton of drugs on my body!" Gilbert snapped.

"Do I look like I give a fuck?" Ned snapped, glancing over his shoulder, panting heavily , looking more stressed out than Gilbert had ever seen him. "Look.. _just_   _look_. I'm leaving, okay?" He then said, much more calmly, pleading even.

Gilbert mentally cursed, the stingy business-like dealer was the only one in town who also sold his products in the less shadier neighbourhoods like his own. "Where to?"

"If I told anyone, I might as well tell the cops directly." Ned sighed. "Please just take it, you can see it as some sort of parting gift, if you like."

"Why you leavin'?" Gilbert said curiously, wondering what had caused the intimidating man, who usually just scared off anybody who got in his way, to suddenly chicken out like that.

"I wanted nothing to do with anybody's dirty little games and now I'm paying for it." Ned said angrily. "I gotta go now, my plane leaves in less than three hours and I still have a few things to take care of. You got a cigarette?"

Gilbert silently handed him one,  _only two left in the packet_ , he noticed glumly,  _he really had to get that new job._

" _Danke, Beilschmidt._  It was nice doing business with you." Ned said, in the kindest voice Gilbert had ever heard him use.

"The pleasure was all mine, Ned." Gilbert said, smirking slightly. "I suppose this is goodbye then."

"Yeah,  _auf Wiedersehen_ _,_ Gilbert Beilschmidt." The corner of Ned's mouth quirked up slightly.

Gilbert watched as the tall man stuffed the cigarette into his pocket before walking away, disappearing around the corner at the pizzeria, out of Gilberts life.

* * *

The office heavily smelled like incense, and one could vaguely hear the employees yelling at each other in the kitchen.

"So, Herr Gilbert Beilschmidt, you want to work in my restaurant?" The man said sharply, in heavily accented German. He looked quite young, with a small pale face, but he radiated an air of wisdom and maturity which indicated he was way older than he looked.

"Um..yes.." Gilbert said uncomfortably, carefully shifting in his chair, praying that his possible future employer would not notice the unusual lump that sat awkwardly on his stomach or worse; actually _heard_ it move underneath his t-shirt. The bag had been far too large to stuff into his jacket and while Gilbert's passions were not rooted in the arts of drug dealing, he did not think it wise to leave more than a 100 grams of weed on a coatrack in a Chinese restaurant.

"Your age?" The man said, studying Gilbert through narrow dark eyes, framed by short black lashes. "My name is Yao Wang, by the way."

He was traditionally dressed, red robe intricately decorated with spun gold, but it was nothing like the stereotypical getups the employees of Asian restaurants wore to amuse the customers, he looked like an emperor and it made Gilbert feel slightly intimidated.

"I'm twenty-nine." Gilbert mumbled, painfully recalling how he was forced to wait with several other potential candidates, feeling like an old man amongst their youthful Asian faces, before he was called to mr. Wang's office.

If Yao Wang was surprised, he did not show it, instead scribbling down something on a clipboard. "Education?"

Gilbert took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "I finished high school, and I studied History for two years."

"Why did you quit?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to tell some half-assed lie, but before he could to that they were interrupted by someone storming into the small office.

" _Yao_!" The young woman, who looked more like a girl, with short skinny limbs and long dark hair, said before firing off a tirade in some sort of Asian language. Mr. Wang angrily snapped his head towards her, seemingly asking her something, repeating the question multiple times, talking to her in a grim voice. Gilbert winced at the anger that flowed through every word he spoke, and even though he couldn't even tell Japanese apart from Korean, he understood that the two Asians were discussing a very serious matter.

After a while of discussing, mr. Wang apparently gave the girl an order, as she only nodded and disappeared through the door without another word. Mr. Wang gave Gilbert a wide, apologetic smile before looking at his clipboard again. "I'm sorry for that, aru. Now where were we? Ah, yes..Tell me about your previous work experiences."

"There aren't any." The words were out of his mouth before Gilbert realised he had even spoken them, before he even had the time to come up with a lie to cover everything up.

Yao stared at him blankly. " _None?_ "

Gilbert shrugged, grimacing slightly, heart hammering in his throat. "Nope.  _Nichts,_  nada." He barely dared to look the man in the eyes, instead focusing on a large dragon-patterned vase that stood on a drawer behind Yao's desk.

Yao blinked a few times before cocking an eyebrow. "You do realise working in a restaurant, especially a _top_ -quality Chinese restaurant like _mine_ is not just some cute little summer job right?"

_Well, that was that then. He'd somehow managed to screw it up in a few minutes, even faster than he had imagined._  He rose from his chair, the plastic bag underneath his shirt crinkling loud enough to be heard, causing Yao to throw him a confused look.

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I'm _just_..I'm desperate... You probably want to hear that I've studied in China for 4 years and that I am super passionate about Asian food or something but really I just need money..there are like five girls out there in the hallway who are 10 times more suitable for the job, I'm just wasting your time. " He already had his hand on the doorknob by the time he finished the sentence.

"Herr Beilschmidt." Yao sharply called after him, causing him to freeze in his tracks. "Did I say you could leave?" He turned around slowly to see that the man was looking at him with an amused look.

"I admire your courage." He said slowly. "Walking into a place like this without any qualifications." He rose from his seat, silk robes flowing down his body like a waterfall, walking towards Gilbert, reminding him of a predator ready to pounce on his prey.

"I know what it's like to not have money, you know." He said, offering Gilbert a small smile. "I was like that, once, clueless and young. It happens. Life can be so rough sometimes."

Gilbert nodded, surprised that bossy restaurant owner Yao Wang of all people was the one who finally provided him with some sympathy.

"But, look where I am now!" Yao said, gesturing at his tastefully decorated office, gold-coloured wallpaper, dark wooden floors and chairs with red satin cushioning. "The river of life doesn't always flow the 'perfect' route everybody wants it to go .There are multiple ways to success, you know. Sometimes you drift off the path but if you're willing to work hard and make the right choices, you will always get there eventually, no matter how many times you fall down."

He ran a hand, slender golden rings on almost every finger, over his robe, watching as the soft fabric crinkled underneath it, before offering it to Gilbert. "You haven't got any experience, but if you're willing I could teach you how to work for your success.." Gilbert stared into the Asians eyes for a minute, but they glittered with something he failed to identify.  _Oh, to hell with it, it sounded like he was offered a job_. He grasped the hand, it was even colder than his own smoker's hands, firmly, shaking it. "Please-Yes,  _of course_!"

* * *

As soon as Gilbert was outside, he let shout of joy, causing an elderly couple walking by to give him a disturbed look. The bag underneath his shirt dangerously bounced up and down as he did his little victory dance, but he could not care less. Doing the dishes, it was a job other's might've looked down upon, and it was far from desirable, but for the first time in weeks, month's even, Gilbert felt like he actually meant something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Wie gehst? Du siehst beschissen aus." = How's it going? You look like shit.
> 
> "Mir gehst verdammt schlecht, danke." = It's going fucking horrible, thanks.
> 
> "Hier gilt das Gleiche. Weißt du, ich frage mich immer noch warum du darauf bestehst Deutsch zu sprechen, es macht dich wie ein Betrunkener klingen." = Same here. You know, I still wonder why you insist on speaking German, it makes you sound like a drunk.


	8. Rot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was here, upon the soil of the park he had spent most of his childhood in, where Gilbert's life would change forever.

He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but Gilbert wasn't able to keep a large smile from creeping up his face the entire time he was walking home. The bag of weed was tightly tucked into his jeans, the pills were stuffed into his underwear, but for the first time in a very, very long time, Gilbert was experiencing some sort of inartificial happiness. The orangey-pink light of the setting sun shone softly on the back of his neck, and there was a slight skip in every other step he took.

_It was going to be okay,_  he mentally cheered. He could achieve something, prove himself. Even though it was utterly pathetic that he felt such intense joy at being offered a badly-paid job he was only glad that he could at least pay off some of the immense guilt he felt towards Ludwig. He was going to earn some money too, if only to lighten Ludwig's burden. He was going to turn his life around, and accepting Yao's outstretched hand had been the first step.

It would take him at least ten more minutes to get home if he walked through the park, but the rustling leaves of the tall trees were bathing in a golden glow while laughing children were playing on the bright green grass underneath so Gilbert decided  _why the fuck not_  take the time to appreciate the beautiful neighbourhood he grew up in. He was nearly swept up in childhood memories as he walked through the park, recalling a small pale boy and his even smaller brother running across the muddy path that wound through fields and flower beds which in the winter were nothing but square patches of dark earth, along the large fenced playground and the heavily graffitied skate ramp. He thought of scraped knees and dirty hands, trading half-torn Pokémon Cards with his childhood friends, he thought of innocent days spent in the cool autumn sun, jumping in puddles and scaring pigeons.

As he sat down on one of the swings, the metal frame creaking dangerously, digging his feet into the muddy sand, he remembered a time of unconditional happiness, where his sadness would just go away as soon as Opi kissed it all better, where he, the cheerful and slightly obnoxious preteen, had not been touched by the cold hands of reality.

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his jacket and he unlocked it, watching as several messages appeared on his screen. Ludwig had sent him a short but clear message, using no emoticons and perfect punctuation, as if it concerned a very important business issue instead of whether he wanted to know if Gilbert wanted pasta or rice and chicken for dinner. Antonio had left him a very enthusiastic greeting, written in caps lock accompanied by lots and lots of happy smiley faces. Elizaveta's messages consisted of various awkward attempts at making conversation, she had left no less than five of them, asking Gilbert various random questions she already knew the answer of, before ending her last message with a plea to call him.

He quickly texted Ludwig about dinner before turning his phone off, ignoring the other two. If he were to start all over, he had to stop holding on to the past and his old habits. Toni, of course was for the most part nothing but an innocent, oblivious ray of sunshine whom Francis played like a fiddle, but if there grew one infected flower in the garden one would have to take out all the others too in order to completely get rid of the poison. Liza was like poison ivy, always able to wind her way into his thoughts, no matter how many times he tried to chop her branches off. Fran was like a toxic rose who refused to be picked, rooted deep into his heart, delicate but spiky thorns sending venom deep into his veins as soon as he'd try as much as touching him, but Gilbert was done. He'd just set fire to the flowerbeds, tear them out until their roots found nothing to latch on to, no matter how much it was going to hurt him, for having an empty garden only meant there was room for new seeds.

He let his eyes wander around the park. A young boy, golden skin and raven hair, tiny hands clutching a green stuffed dinosaur, toddled around the playground while his mother, who was wearing a colourful headscarf, watched from the side. A student, messy blonde curls and clear pilot-style glasses was hunched over his sketchbook as he sat by the pond, watching as the soft beams of sunlight illuminated the water making it seem like God had decided to decorate every little ripple with a handful of diamonds. Two teenagers were huddled together. sitting on the end of the plastic yellow slide, the girl entwining their hands as her boyfriend whispered sweet nothings into her ear, before they pressed their lips together, quick and tender. Gilbert watched them fondly for a moment, remembering the kisses of his own that he had shared on the soil of this very park.

There had been Lilli Zwingli, the little Swiss girl who had been his first kiss, whose cheeks had flushed a lovely shade of red as eleven year- old Gilbert had shyly given her a quick peck on the lips while they hid in the playhouse. Even the bruises Lilli's brother had given him after that failed to ruin the magical experience.

When he was fourteen, he had taken his then girlfriend, Lucille, to this park after they had lunch at MacDonald's.  _How classy,_  Gilbert chuckled to himself. He had not kissed Lucille, she had kissed  _him_ , dragging him behind a large rhododendron bush, gripping his shoulders tightly as she determinedly pressed her lips against his'. He had been overwhelmed by this experience and while things with clever, sharp-tongued Lucille did not quite work out, he firmly believed that his bad habit of letting himself be pushed around by his lovers started here, with her.

After Lucille there hadn't been anybody for a very long time, and Gilbert busied himself with other things, such as smoking weed behind the skate ramp and threatening to drop out of school. For more than 4 years, his life was nothing but skipping school to play Call of Duty with a newfound group of friends, who drank a lot of beer and kissed a lot of girls. His downfall had been halted by Opi, when a policeman had snatched him off the streets and brought him home, piss drunk with his own puke running down the front of his shirt. Opi had literally  _slapped_  him back into reality, and the next year was spent talking to a lot of therapists while trying to catch up with everything he had missed in school. History turned out to be his secret talent, and when the schoolyear ended, Gilbert magically succeeded in entering History at the Humboldt-Universität in Berlin.

When he had been a student for about half a year, he shared his third and final kiss in the park. It had been somewhere in the middle of November back then, the brown fallen leaves on the ground covered in a slight layer of frost, but neither of them noticed the cold as Francis had tangled his fingers in his hair and claimed his mouth in a heated kiss. He remembered everything, from the stupid purple bobble hat Francis was wearing to the half-burned forgotten cigarette clutched in between his own fingers. He remembered how cold the tip of Francis' long ,elegant nose had felt against his skin, he could still feel the pleasant stinging of Francis' nails running through his hair. It had not been their first kiss, Francis had roped Gilbert into his little group of friends with benefits as soon as Gil had entered college, but it had been the first kiss they had initiated while sober, and he knew as soon as he reached out to take Francis' hand and he did not pull away, instead locking their hands as they walked back to where Antonio and a few of their other friends where hanging out, something in their relationship had shifted.

_It only went down from there,_  Gilbert thought bitterly, fumbling with his next-to-last cigarette, not even having to close his eyes in order to imagine Francis sitting on the swing beside him, stealing the cig from Gil's hand, smirking teasingly before raising it to full pink glossy lips. He'd offer it to Gilbert next, and strawberries and smoke would mix on Gilbert's tongue and it would be the best thing in the world. Now the cigarette only tasted like ashes in his mouth, and Gilbert threw it away in disgust once he realised it would forever be tainted by the lack of chap stick stains on the filter.

A dogs bark shook him out of his bitter thoughts, and Gilbert looked up to see a white Swiss shepherd pressing it's soft snout to Gilbert's hand in a surprising but welcome gesture of comfort. "Hey there, buddy!" He said gently, petting it's head. "Where's your owner?" As if upon command, an elderly lady shuffled towards him, panting heavily.

"Duxi! _Da bist du!_ " She gave Gilbert a friendly smile, causing little wrinkles to from at the corners of her light blue eyes. "He keeps running off and my old legs cannot keep up." She spoke to him in German, gesturing to the leash she held in her right hand.

"I can take a walk with him, if you want, so you can sit down for a while." Gilbert offered kindly, scratching Duxi behind his ears. The dog panted happily. Gilbert was lucky he was still wearing his clothes from his job application, looking at least a bit presentable in his black trousers and white shirt, if he were in his usual getup of torn jeans and dark hoodies the woman probably would've ran away by now, but she gave him a relieved smile, handing him the leash.

"That would by fantastic,  _danke schön."_

* * *

_A_ fter Gilbert had hooked Duxi onto the leash, he followed the muddy path that lead along the pond and to the skating ramp. He watched as the sun had almost sank behind the horizon, the sky now a bright orange. The mother and her child had disappeared from the playground, the student was packing up his stuff. He walked past the skating park, eyes flicking over the concrete blocks and ramps and the dense forest of trees and plants behind them. He used to hang out here with his friends, on top of the largest ramp in the park he was first introduced to the hazy world of marihuana. He grimaced, recalling many of his drug-filled, slightly illegal escapades, balling his fists. He had been so young back then,  _when exactly had it all gone to shit?_

His face hardened in determination, pushing the thoughts away. He had a job now, a second chance. He was going to earn his money, pay off his debt, make Ludwig and Opi's memory proud, not letting himself be used by anything again, whether it be by toxic people or drugs.

Alongside him, Duxi suddenly barked in alarm and he barely had time to react before someone bumped into him, hard. He caught a nose full of a sickly sweet perfume, and he angrily snapped his head up. "Hey lady, watch where you're going will ya?"

The eyes he met were a darkish blue, the hard look in them sharply contrasting with the rest of her pretty doll-like face. " _Entschuldigung!_ " She snarled, her German laced with a thick accent that Gilbert couldn't quite grasp, before roughly pushing past him, long dark blonde hair swishing behind her as she quickly walked away.

Gilbert rubbed his painful arm, angrily muttering something about rude foreigners before continuing his way past the skating park. It was getting late, he should probably return Duxi to his owner soon. He was just about to walk the dog back to the elderly woman as he started tugging on the leash.

"What is it, buddy?" He said, but Duxi only tugged harder, barking loudly. Gilbert let the dog lead him, surprised when he found himself dragged towards the bushes behind the skate ramp. "Duxi _c'mon!_ " He said trying to restrain the dog from walking any further. "You need to get back to your owner!"

Duxi just barked then growled, and Gilbert quickly checked his surroundings, looking for any sign of danger. There was nothing to be seen, the park was completely empty, save for the elderly lady seated on a bench on the other side of the pond, patiently waiting for Gilbert and her dog to return. Duxi barked again, pulling Gilbert forward, and he stumbled after him, into the bushes. "No! Bad boy!  _Dux-_ NO!" He roared, but the shepherd was stronger than he anticipated and he had to let go of the leash on order to not topple over face first into a rose bush.

He watched in despair as the dog, disappeared between the bushes and trees in a flash of white. "Oh,  _fuck me_!" He said to himself, following the shepherd into the dense vegetation, cursing as various branches and leaves hit him in the face as he tried to make his way towards the dog. "Duuuuuxi!" He yelled. "C'mon doggo, I ain't got time for this!"

He was completely surrounded by plants now, nothing to be heard except for the leaves crunching beneath his feet and the faint sounds of cars driving past. Dusk was falling rapidly, it was getting harder to see. Gilberts heart started pounding in his throat. "DUXI! WHERE ARE YOU?" He called out, voice slightly panicked. "You can dig up bones another time!"

Suddenly the rustling of leaves could be heard, not far from where Gilbert stood. "Duxi?' He said hesitantly, relaxing when he heard the now familiar bark. "Jesus Christ!  _There you are!"_  He snarled, dashing towards the noise. "Don't run off like that, you stupid do-"

Gilbert froze in his tracks as he saw a large Dr. Martens boot stuck out from underneath a gorse bush. Duxi barked again, and Gilbert followed the dog into the bushes, noticing how the dark stains on Duxi's paws made seem like he was wearing some sort of grotesque red socks.

The leaves underneath the body were tainted with a coppery colour. Pale, bruised hands lay lifelessly on the muddy earth, the fingers snapped in awkward, unnatural positions, indicating that someone had tossed the body away without a care. The dark blonde hair was matted with blood and little pink pieces of something Gilbert didn't want to spent too much time thinking about. Next to a large scar, a gaping bloody hole on the forehead seemed to stare at him as if it were a third eye.

Before Gilbert even realized what he was doing, he was on his knees next to the body. He tried his best to ignore the lifeless green eyes staring up at him accusingly as he rummaged through the many pockets of the brown coat, which was now stained with blood. He vaguely registered closing one hand around a leather wallet and another around a familiar flip phone before stuffing them both into his jacket without even looking. He was just about to slip his hand underneath the shirt to look for more, when his mind was finally able to form a single thought. Don't touch the flesh, you'll leave fingerprints. As soon as that thought had broken through the panicked haze of his mind, more followed, including the horrifying realisation of what he was doing. He jerked away from the body in shock, falling back, struggling to get up before grabbing Duxi's leash.

He only stopped running by the time he reached the playground. He clutched at the fence like a drowning man, not knowing whether he needed to scream or puke. He felt like he needed to tear his eyes out, set his brain on fire, anything that could make him forget what he saw, and even more what he did. He let out a choked sound, clenching his jaw as tears dripped over his cheeks. As soon as he had regained enough control over his mind and body he steadied himself, shakily stroking Duxi's head. "C-come, buddy..We'll get you back to your owner."

Gilbert roughly tugged the dog towards him, not listening to its pained wails, stumbling forward like he was a dead man risen from the grave, ignoring the knowing glint in Duxi's large black eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Da bist du! = There you are!
> 
> Danke schön = Thank you
> 
> Entschuldigung = Sorry


	9. Cereal Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fruit Loops turned bulletholes. Gilbert deals with the aftermath of his discovery in the park.

The cereal in the bowl had started to slowly turn into a soggy paste, but Gilbert couldn't bring himself to even pick up his spoon, as if afraid the cold dead hands from his nightmares would reach out from the lukewarm milk and drag him into the eternal flaming pits of hell. His daily life might have improved slightly, but the hours spent lying in the darkness were even worse. While he dragged himself through the day in an overwhelmingly numbing high, pushing every single thought away in order to truly become one of the living dead, the night now belonged to Ned. He could see him sitting at the end of his bed, staring at him with the empty rotten holes that were once his green eyes, crawling up to him, the accusing whispers which reeked with the stench of death feeding Gilbert's rapidly increasing sense of guilt.

The worst thing of this entire situation was however, that while Gilbert's already pathetic life had shattered upon discovering his decomposing dealer on the soil of the park where he had almost spent his entire childhood, the rest of the world seemed to move on. While Gilbert found himself tormented by the thought of Ned's rotten corpse closing its bony hands around his neck whenever he finally dared to drift off to sleep, Ludwig was still complaining about Gilbert washing his black t-shirts with Ludwig's crisp white blouses, the people below his window still chattered into their cell phones on their way to work, Liz still sent him several awkward messages a day, and the goddamn cuckoo clock still ominously ticked off all the seconds until Saturday while there still was no money in his pockets.

He gloomily watched Ludwig as he prepared for work, large hands with thick fingers wrapping ham-cheese sandwiches with their usual care and gentleness. The soft crackling sound of a brown paper bag was the only thing that could be heard in the further quiet living room. His brother's brow was furrowed in concentration, blue eyes as hard and cold as ice cubes intensely focused on his simple task. Ah, so typical of Ludwig, the kind of person who wished he could take life by the corners and fold it into a neat little rectangle, like the lunch bag he was currently folding, obsessively flattening out the folds and wrinkles until he had achieved what he viewed as perfection.

Ludwig caught him staring, raising his eyebrows in confusion. "What?" He said, voice sounding devoid of any emotion but hands uncertainly fidgeting with the paper bag indicating some form of nervousness or concern.

He had found him last night, crying and drenched in his own sweat. As soon as Gilbert's hysterical pleading started, Ludwig had stormed into the room, hair dishevelled, broom held tightly in his hand as if to strike any intruders with it. Gilbert freshly awake but still able to feel dead fingers digging into his chest had just cried, burying his face in Ludwig's t-shirt and holding on like the world around him was collapsing, and Ludwig had just held him, awkwardly patting his back.

The unspoken words from last night hung heavily in between them, but Gilbert had never learnt how to talk about his feelings and Ludwig had never mastered the art of comforting, so instead they slipped back in the familiar, uncomfortable silence between two estranged siblings who never knew the right thing to say, so they just refrained from saying anything at all.

It felt like the corners of Gilbert's mouth were made from thick rubber bands as he forcefully curled his lips into what he hoped was a pleasant and loose grin. "Nothing  _Dummkopf_ , go make out with your sandwiches or something."

Ludwig visibly relaxed, probably relieved that he was allowed to fall back in his role of slightly annoyed little brother. "Oh, get lost." He shoved the paper back in Gilbert's direction . "They are for you."

Making his favourite type of sandwich was probably the greatest gesture of comfort his brother could muster, and combined with Ludwig just standing in front of him, unsure what to do with his body, tight smile around his lips, it moved Gilbert more than he had expected, and he actually felt tears sting in his eyes as he gave his brother a melancholic look. " _Oh, Ludwig_.."

Ludwig seemed even more confused than before, an utterly lost look in his eyes and a slight blush dusting his cheeks. "For work!" He said bluntly. "I just thought that..you like ham and cheese right?" He said questioningly, looking less and less sure of himself every second he tried to force more words out of his throat.

"You already wash my clothes and make my doctors' appointments, now you make my sandwiches too? Jesus Lud, just adopt me already!" Gilbert laughed loudly, causing the corners of Ludwig's mouth to quirk up a little. They awkwardly stared at each other before Gil averted his eyes, raising a spoonful of soggy cereal to his mouth. The pinkish loops floating in the milk reminded him of ragged bullet holes in a ghastly pale forehead and he abruptly dropped the spoon back into the bowl, his stomach flipping over. Ludwig flinched at the sound, concern creeping back onto his face.

"I'm just not feeling this mushy trash today, tastes like sugary cardboard. As soon as my first pay check comes, I'll bake us croissants with _real_  Nutella, deal?" Gilbert said cheerily, the lies and promises slipping just as easily out of his mouth as oxygen did. Ludwig nodded uncertainly. Gilbert rose from his chair, walking towards his brother, his bare feet making sticky sounds on the greyish tiles of their kitchen floor.

"Oh _c'mon Lutz_ , pull that stick outta your ass. When did you become such a mother hen?" Gilbert said, more of a sharp edge to his words than he would've liked. Then, much softer: "I'll eat something at work, promise."

"Good." Ludwig said simply, watching as Gilbert grabbed the bag, smirking at it in approval.

"I'm looking forward to eating those, they look rather good." He said, offering his brother a friendly smile, less wide than his usual sharp grins and much more sincere too.

Ludwig shuffled with his feet, not sure how to deal with the praise, instead anxiously fiddling with the knife he had used to spread butter with. He jumped slightly as Gilbert clapped his hand on his shoulder and Gilbert internally winced, wondering when exactly they had turned into such a distant mess. Was it when Gilbert quit his studies and moved back in? Or did it all begin much longer ago, when Opi had died? He did not know and he did not want to spent too much thought on it, just like he hadn't done it back then, it was like he had turned around for a second and all of a sudden was faced with a newer version of Ludwig, as quiet, clean and practical as a silent washing machine.

"They are just sandwiches." Ludwig stammered, scratching his head and Gilbert looked at him; truly looked at him, standing there with slicked back hair that was so blonde it seemed yellow, and a suit that was way too stiff and formal for a job at a factory, and the way his eyes seemed to lighten up a little at Gilberts compliments and happiness and- _Fuck Ludwig, what did I do to deserve you?_

"But they are  _awesome_  sandwiches!" Gil said loudly, squeezing Ludwig's bicep encouragingly. "I really appreciate it Luddy,  _danke_."

"You're welcome." Ludwig said, showing Gilbert one of his rare wider smiles before turning serious again. "Erm..I've got to go now. I've probably got to work overtime so I won't be able to make a proper dinner. I'll grab some takeout on my way home I guess, bur if I'm late and you get hungry after work, there's some money in the plastic shopping bag so you can-"

"Yeah, yeah..' Gilbert said lazily, roughly patting his brother on the shoulder before slouching back towards his bedroom. "I'll be fine! Go get 'em tiger."

Ludwig rolled his eyes, fumbled with his tie and grabbed his suitcase before he departed with a swift nod to his brother.

As the front door slammed shut with a heavy thud, Gilbert took a breath before grabbing the door knob of his wooden bedroom door.

* * *

The wallet was large and thick, made of some type of faux-leather. It seemed to be in good condition, only a small dark stain on one of the corners revealed what horrors the thing had been a witness of. As Gilbert's trembling hands opened it for what felt like the thousandth time in the last, horrible 48 hours. It almost felt as if he was assaulting the body itself when he flipped it over , spreading its contents on his bedspread next to the other things he kept hidden in a shoebox underneath his bed, the now half empty bag of weed and the black flip phone. There were some small sample baggies of some unidentifiable drug, a pass which enabled access to Berlin's public transport, a heap of other passes and cards, a key and an unhealthy amount of receipts from various different drugstores and supermarkets. He unzipped another pocket, pulling out a stack of bills, nervously running his hands over each individual bill, flattening them out. He softly counted every single one of them, even though he had done that already once, twice, thrice.

400 euros.  _400 fucking euros._

That was the thing he hated the most, actually. It wasn't the fact that he was now constantly plagued by guilt eating away at his heart and stomach nor was it the fact that he saw Ned in every mirror or dream, it was the fact that he had ended up degrading himself like this, stealing money from a dead man ,shattering his budding pride and getting severely traumatized in the process ,and it still wasn't  _enough_. He still was 150 euros short, his pay check wouldn't come until next week, if he didn't fuck up his first day of work that was, and he only had two days left before it was Saturday.

Arthur had already sent him the details as to where he would need to transfer the money to, in the form of a passive-aggressive email that not so subtly suggested he thought sending the e-mail was a waste of time, as he had just learned from Francis that Gilbert was currently unemployed and had no chance of transferring the money in time anyway.

If it were any other day, Gilbert would have felt dread pooling into his stomach as he read the email, but that day he was still stuck with Ned's wide unseeing eyes etched in his mind, so he just pushed it aside, instead leaning out of his window and smoking the heaviest joint he had ever rolled. Fast forward two horrible days of living a half-life somewhere in between real life and a hazy dream world later, and Gilbert was slowly coming down from his high, trying to pick up his life where he had left off, even if that included worrying himself sick over something as trivial as money while the shadow of his dead drug dealer still seemed to loom over him.

He stared at the money for a moment before stuffing it into his own wallet, feeling as if his hands had been stained with blood as he returned them to his side. He fished a piece of paper out of the walled, a plane ticket, he realised, as he unfolded it.

_Jose Marti International Airport, Havana, Cuba._

His mind unwillingly created the image of Ned lying on a stretcher on one of Cuba's white beaches, wearing a tiny speedo while sipping on a cocktail. He had to laugh at that; Ned always covered himself in long coats and scarves like he was a nun and could only be seen drinking beer or some sort of triple espresso shot. He would probably burn in the sun after 5 minutes, too.  _Or he would have, at least, if it weren't for him rotting away in a pile of leaves behind the skate ramp,_  Gilbert thought to himself, feeling more miserable than ever.

He fumbled with the ticket for a second, before starting to put the belongings back in the wallet, quickly covering the ID-card with his hands so he did not have to put up with  _Lars van Rijn, Koningkrijk der Nederlanden/ Kindom of the Netherlands(NL)_ 's face staring up at him, halting when he reached the key.

_Number 16_ , it read, black letters printed on a bright yellow tag. It probably was for the best that Gil did not know where Ned, or Lars, had lived, as his broke ass probably would've broken into his home to look for some more money, or at least some more drugs. He was half a faggot after all, would go to hell anyway, and he had already stooped as low as robbing a dead man of his most precious possessions, so why not take everything?

He flinched forcefully as the flip phone,  _Neds phone,_  suddenly began to vibrate, the standard Nokia ringtone echoing through his small bedroom. After a second of staring at it as if hypnotized, he slowly picked it up, carefully flipping it open, praying for the love of God that it wasn't Ned's lost soul trying to pull him down to hell with him.


	10. Through the Hatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Ned's death still fresh on his mind, Gilbert tries to survive his first day of work and makes some discoveries along the way. Also, surviving his work turns out to be taken a a bit more literally than he originally thought,

_“The police are still investigating the disappearance of a 26-year old Dutchman who was last spotted two days ago, close to the Pankower Strasse, located in the district of Pankow.  The man is tall, blonde and was wearing a brown trench coat and combat boots the day he vanished. If you know anything related to his disappearance, please call-“_

Gilbert tightened his hand around the sponge, scrubbing the plate furiously, trying to block out the sing song voice of the news reporter. It was boiling hot in the kitchen, the steam that came from the large pans filled with rice and chicken not quite succeeding in escaping through the narrow windows. A dozen people or so moved through the thick clouds of steam, stirring pots or chopping meat while chattering loudly in a foreign language. They mostly seemed to ignore him, carefully moving around him and averting their eyes as they passed him, which made Gilbert feel like even more of a freak than usual.  Though it was probably for the better, as he was not really in the mood for awkward introductions where he would have to decipher anything his colleagues said in their heavy accented German or English. His mind kept drifting off to that lone Dutchman who had provided him with weed over the last three years. He had not dared to answer the phone call, too afraid that it would be a worried mother on the other end of the line, wondering why her son had not called her back yet, or worse, a police officer trying to figure out where Lars van Rijn, or his body, was currently located.

He dropped the plate in the sink with a crash as he suddenly realized something, receiving angry stares from his co-workers.

_They spoke about his disappearance. How hard was it to discover a rotting body lying in a park in the middle of Pankow?  If anything, the smell should alarm people.._

“You okay?”

He was snapped out of his thought by a soft voice. He turned his head to face Mei, a short girl with a childish face, pink painted lips and dark strands that had come loose from her bun falling into her face, who had been assigned with the task of helping him on his first day of work.

“Yeah..yeah.’m fine.” Gilbert said absent-mindedly. She stared at him for a moment, but then got back to her own dirty dishes.

_It had been two days. How could they not have found the body yet? Where’d it go?_

Gilbert’s mind unwillingly conjured up an image of a zombified Ned staggering towards his apartment, ready to tear Gilbert’s head off his torso. The heavy scent of cooked chicken that hung inside the kitchen suddenly smelt sickly. _Focus, Gilbert, or you’ll go insane._ He thought to himself, shaky hands shoving another cleaned plate into the rack.

Both Gilbert and his twelve young Asian co-workers started as quick footsteps suddenly could be heard on the other side of the wall, in the hallway leading to Yao Wang’s office.

_“Dangerous..could get all of us into serious trouble..”_

Even though Gilbert had only seen the man a couple of times, he could clearly make out Yao Wang’s snappy voice over two pairs of shuffling footsteps.

_“_ You be happy he is willing to even do such things for you! _”_ Another voice shrieked loudly, in English, a harsh female tone laced with a thick foreign accent.

_“Completely irresponsible, do you and your brother even realize what..”_ Yao lowered his voice before ending his sentence, causing Gilbert to draw closer to the wall, trying to understand more of the conversation. He was not sure if Yao was angry, disappointed or concerned, but it probably was pretty serious.

“You shut up.” The female voice snarled threateningly. “See it as little gift from him to you, _da_?”

From the corner of his eye, Gilbert saw one of his co-workers pick up a knife. _That odd accent, the way she pronounced her l’s and r’s..he had heard that before, but where?_

Curiosity overtook him, and he grabbed a stack of freshly-cleaned plates, walking towards the hatch where cleaned dishes and cutlery could be shoved through.

“Braginski’s don’t like it when you don’t appreciate their gifts, understand?”

As soon as he opened the hatch and peeked through he was faced with a pair of steely dark blue eyes and an angry snarl on a pretty face, her long dark blonde hair now pulled back into a ponytail, and all of the sudden he was back in _the park, cursing as a woman bumped into him, angry blue eyes flashing at him, the heavily accented apology, Duxi’s tugging on the leash, Ned’s unseeing eyes, the bloody bullet hole, tiny pieces of brain stuck in blonde hair-_

He only caught a glimpse of her and Yao’s surprised expressions before he was pulled back by a furious group of Asians. He struggled against their hands, deafened by their hysteric yelling before he froze, finding himself faced with the tip of a gleaming knife.

His eyes followed the edge of knife upwards, from a thin arm to an angry face, narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. Her eyes spat fire as she pushed the weapon closer to his face.

“Who’re you? What you wan’!?” She roared and Gilbert tried to step back, only to be stopped by a dozen of hands closing around his arms.

“I..I’m Gilbert Beilschmidt…I don’t want anything..I promise!” He stammered. “Please don’t stab me..”

“Lien, _please_.” Gilbert looked over the angry woman’s shoulder to see Mei trying to restrain her.

“It’s probably just accident!”

Lien ignored her. For a second nobody moved, the only sound in the kitchen being Gilbert’s heavy panting.

Finally, Lien lowered the knife and Gilbert sighed in relief, only to let out a choked sound when she tightly grabbed his collar.

“L-listen lady, it’s a bit early in our relationship to start practicing BDSM, don’t ya think?” Gilbert joked weakly, but Lien only glared at him suspiciously before abruptly releasing him again.

“I wan’ him out.” She snapped at Mei, who winced before reaching past her grabbing a coughing and rasping Gilbert by the wrist.

“We gonna go to front now, ‘kay?” Mei said softly, dragging him towards the door with a surprising force.

* * *

 

“Your friend is a feisty one, heh.”  Gilbert croaked, stumbling a little as he leant heavily on her petite frame. “Ahhh..first day of work, going _great_ so far!"

She turned her head to look up at him, concern sparking in her eyes as she led him into the hallway. Yao and the mysterious woman were long gone. “You should not make _Chung Lien_ angry, she will tell boss! She his best employee, you look out!”

“But I didn’t _do_ anything!” Gilbert protested, rubbing his sore throat. It felt as if someone had ridden over his neck with a bicycle. The painted dragons on the ceiling seemed to be laughing at him, ridicule glittering in their large colourful eyes. “I looked through a hatch, when did that become a crime?”

She abruptly stopped walking, pushing him against one of the green velvet-covered walls. “Listen to me, ‘kay?” She narrowed her eyes. “If you wanna keep job, you stay out of boss’ business, kay?”

“Yeah..yeah I understand..” Gilbert said, rolling his eyes. _Curious people, those Asians._

He gasped as she roughly pushed him against the wall. “Ow- _what the heck?_ Why are you all so violent?” He groaned, pushing her away.

“Listen to me!” She said shrilly. “Stay out of it! I _swear!_ It’s no good for you!”

“Out of what?” Gilbert said, exasperated.

“I dunno!” She stuttered, eyes darting uncertainly over his face. “But I've seen things. _Bad things_. Just keep out, ‘kay _please?_ ’ Her eyes were large, and doll like, soft browns framed by dark long lashes. Her face was close to his, he had been dry for about a week now, and this combined with Gilbert’s strange kink for abuse made his head spin in all sorts of inappropriate directions.

“For you, _schatz_.” He said, smirking at her, trying to regain some of his dignity. She wasn’t having any of it, smacking his arm firmly.

“ _Promise to me_!”

“Okay..okay! I promise!”

She sighed in relief. “Okay _good_. You be good, kay? We gonna go into restaurant now, follow me please!”

As soon as they entered the restaurant, Mei wasted no time installing him behind the counter, barking some instructions at her co-workers before disappearing, all flushed cheeks and messy hair.

Gilbert passed the rest of his shift there, actually quite enjoying his career switch to cashier, as that meant he finally was able to communicate with other Germans who walked up to him in order to pay or order take-away. He only had to work 15 more minutes before his shift ended and then he finally could go home, to maybe put some ice on his throat and seriously reconsider his career choices.

His next customer raised her eyebrows in surprise at finding a grumpy albino wearing dirty kitchen attire behind the cash register instead of the usual friendly faced Asian girl, but she composed herself, rummaging around in her pockets to find her wallet as she ordered. “Can I have one Kung Pao chicken please, and..some ramen to go with that? Take-away please.” 

Gilbert gave her a half-hearted smile before whirling around, opening a hatch and roaring the order into the kitchen. He was not sure if the staff understood him, but at the moment he did not care less, he could’ve left that kitchen sliced like the slippery meat that was boiling in the large pans, after all.

As he turned back to collect the customer’s payment, he froze halfway through as he noticed something.

The girl had started emptying her pockets in the search of her wallet, tossing her keys onto the counter with a tinkling sound. Next to a teddy bear keychain that had lost half of its head sat a bright yellow tag, the black letters on it reading _“08”._

“Sooo..” Gilbert said slowly, his eyes never leaving the keychain. “How ya doin’?”

She gave him a confused look, cocking one eyebrow. “ _What_?”

“How are you doing?” Gilbert repeated, dragging his eyes from the keys to look at her face.

“I’m fine..” She said hesitantly, giving him a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Oh, erm..you know.. _restaurant etiquette_ and all, heh.” Gilbert laughed awkwardly.

She gave him a curt smile, before averting her eyes.

“Uh, _hey_!” Gilbert said. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“I don’t think so, sorry.” She said, pulling a bill out of her pocket, handing it to Gilbert who put it in the register without breaking eye-contact.

“ _Really?_ I could’ve _sworn_ I’ve seen ya before.” Gilbert said, squinting his eyes to study her face. She wasn’t a pretty girl, face pale and puffy, with bright red acne markings on both cheeks.

“I _really_ do not know you, sorry.” She laughed uncertainly.

Gilbert scratched his chin, running a hand through his hair. That always seemed to work. “Hmm…I saw your pretty face before and I know it! I just don’t know where…Do you live in _Pankow_ , perhaps?”

Her face had turned a bright red at Gilbert’s compliment. “U-uh, no! I live in _Marzahn_.”

“ _Marzahn_ , huh? A close friend of mine lives there! I come there a lot, maybe I saw you there? You live close to the _Kornmandelweg?_ ”

She twirled a lock of badly dyed red hair around her finger. “Uh, kinda.  Well..no..I live at the _Elizabethstrasse_ , it’s a few blocks away from there.”

_Bingo. Great job, Gilbert._

Gilbert could not keep a triumphant smirk from creeping up his lips, quickly forcing himself to remove it, replacing it with a pout. “Oh, that’s a shame, I was sure I had seen you somewhere. I always remember a cute girl, you know?”

If her face had been red before, it was on fire right now. “I think your colleague wants you to give me my order.” She said shyly, pointing at the hatch behind Gilbert, where an angry man had been sitting for five minutes hissing at Gilbert to pick up the meal.

“Oh yeah, _natürlich schatz_.” He said, giving her a cocky smirk, quickly wrapping her meal in a plastic bag before handing it to her with a wink. “Enjoy your meal!” 

She threw him one last, slightly disturbed glance before shuffling out of the restaurant, probably feeling confused by Gilberts strange advances. Gilbert himself was not sure how to feel either.


	11. Le Roi de la Jungle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert takes the plunge.

The landscape of gloomy apartment blocks and concrete roads of Marzahn was only one of many souvenirs the DDR had left behind. The buildings, bulky and square,  the setting sun reflected in the hundreds of tiny windows, towered imposingly over the tiny Seat as it drove past them. Gilbert leaned back in his chair, half-burned cig in one hand and the other closed so tightly around the keys he could feel his blood pounding through his palm. The key tag was as yellow as the flaking paint on some of the balconies they passed, it was large and square and nearly identical to the one the girl at the restaurant had carried with her. He was unable to stop staring at it, it was almost as if it would burn a hole through his hands. He let out a heavy sigh, listening to it soft tinkly sounds as he clenched and unclenched his hand around it.. He stuck his arm out of the car, feeling the soft summer breeze tickle his fingers as he let the key dangle dangerously off of his index finger. He could still turn back now. His heart stilled in his throat as the car suddenly swerved to the left, the once-cold-now-lukewarm and sweaty key ring slipping out of his grip, only relaxing once he tightly wrapped his hands around it once again, the sharp ridges stinging his palm.

“ _You wanna kill us, Toni!?”_ He yelled angrily as the Seat’s chassis groaned in misery and the driver of an oncoming car shook his fist at them.

“Oh shut it, Gil. I did not see him coming, I was too distracted by your fidgeting!”  Antonio, dressed in lime-green sweatpants and a black tank that showed off his muscled arms, muttered, eyes never leaving the road. “What are you so stressed out about?”

“I already told you, it’s nothing.” Gilbert snarled, avoiding his friend’s eyes, dropping the keys in his lap and raising the cigarette to his lips. “Turn left here.”

“Where are we going anyway?” Antonio said curiously. His curly hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, as he had just returned from his dance classes.

“Here, Marzahn.” Gilbert replied gloomily, flicking his cigarette, watching as the ashes swirled out of the window before they were dragged down to the cooling concrete.

Antonio let out a surprised laugh, Gilbert could see his raised eyebrows in the car mirror. “ _Marzahn?_ Isn’t that all just Sovjet-style flats and general misery?”

“Well I’m not here to go sightseeing, Toni.” Gilberts voice was a little less sarcastic and a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked.

“Well, what _do_ you wanna do here?” Antonio said. “I kinda want to know what I’m wasting all of this gass for.”

There were tiny imprints of the key left in the soft flesh of his palm as he opened his hand to look at it again. He could still turn back, but he knew very well he wouldn’t. The half empty pack of Marlboro on his lap proved that he didn’t possess much self-control anyway. “Get cash. I smashed that British fuck’s car.” He said semi-casually, tossing his cig out of the window.

Antonio nearly steered off the road. “You did _what!?_ ”

“Broke his window. 550 bucks or he’ll sue me.” _It was either pissing on a dead man’s grave or digging his own. Ludwig’s too._

Toni laughed. “Gilbert, you _idiot!_ That car of his is expensive! He spent at least 40 minutes talking about it when I first met him. I’m pretty sure he’ll make you repay the entire thing if you don’t pay up in time.”

“His car and Fran’s’ next nose-job too, probably.” Gilbert said grimly.

Antonio snorted, then composed himself. “Ay _amigo_ , don’t be mean.” He was silent for a moment, before chuckling. “Ahh, Arthur Kirkland. He’s a.. _special_ man, no?”

“Tell me all about it.” Gilbert laughed, reaching for another cigarette. _Honestly, if he carried on like this, he had to rob at least five more dead bodies._ “Dude’s got a stick up his ass bigger than the Eiffel tower. How has Francis not murdered him yet?”

Antonio shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me, those two are like water and fire. But hey, that’s when Fran is at his happiest, apparently. I mean, we’ve seen it before.”  He smiled nostalgically, giving Gilbert a suggestive look, only to frown when Gilbert gave him a disgusted expression.

“Don’t even _go_ there, Antonio, I swear to God.” He snapped, cheeks flushing red. The sinful explosive mess that used to be his relationship with Francis was the last thing he wanted to think about while he was about to break in to the apartment of his drug dealer who was decomposing behind a bush in a park in Pankow.

“According to Google Maps, we should be there in five _min_ -“ He was interrupted by the car creaking dangerously. “- _minutes_. That is, if your ‘car’ can hold out that long before it collapses.”

“ _Oi!_ ” Antonio said, eyes narrowing. “Careful, Gilly! Everyone who insults my dear old Seat ends up on my list of enemies.”

Gilbert blew out a thick cloud of smoke, coughing harshly. “I’m probably on enough lists as it is. This morning a bitch tried to-“

 _Murder me with a kitchen knife_. He paused. If he wanted to keep his old friend out of the mess he was currently getting himself into, it was better not to let Antonio know what had happened to him in the past few days. And while Antonio had disappointed him in some ways, such as not calling him after Francis had kicked him out that horrible night of the reunion to make sure he was even alive, or basically allowing Francis to burn his self-esteem to the ground, he still didn’t deserve to get caught up in a murder.   “Never mind, I think we’re here.”

“Which one is it?” Antonio said curiously.

Gilbert peered at his phone, then out the window. “The building with the blue and white balconies at the corner, _Elizabeth apartments_ , over there.”

“Okay I’ll park right here then.” Antonio said, parking at the side of the road. “Good luck with uh, whatever you’re doing. Are you going to get money from a friend?”

Gilbert shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, staring at the keys in his lap. “U-uh, something like that, yeah.”

Antonio, oblivious as ever, just beamed at him. “Okay cool! Hooray for the power of friendship, right?”

Gilbert nodded awkwardly. He tried to his best to keep his face neutral, but he must have failed, as Toni’s face fell. “ _Oh_ _Gil_ , I’m sorry. I know that things with Fran are a bit tense right now, it was inconsiderate of me to mention-“

“It’s not _that_!” Gilbert snapped harshly. _Why was it that everybody insisted on speaking to him like he was some sort of pathetic child?_ “Just drop me off, okay?”

“Yeah sure.” Antonio muttered. “I’m still just trying to help amigo, jeez. I got your back. No need for the attitude man.”

Gilbert was too stressed out to feel guilty, instead opening the door of the car. “Can you pick me up in an hour or something?”

Antonio gave him a confused look. “You’re not sleeping over?” He gestured to the large black sports bag that was perched between Gilbert’s legs.

“See. You. In. An. Hour.”  Gilbert hissed through gritted teeth, slinging the bag over his shoulder as he got out of the car, walking away as quickly as he could without looking back, only slightly relaxing as he heard Toni’s car drive away.

* * *

 

His footsteps sounded hollow in the otherwise empty stairwell as Gilbert Beilschmidt climbed towards the site of his first real crime. The setting sun bathed the landscape of Marzahn, bulky towers  and straight concrete roads with thin patches of green in between, in an orange glow. Some children were playing football on a playground below, their shrieking laughter could be heard echoing through the galleries. Gilbert tightened his hands around the satchel of his bag, the rough fabric scraping his palms. He counted the numbers, _12..13..14.. Almost there._

The door was made out of metal, appearing as if it hadn’t been long ago since it was last painted, dark blue paint looking as if had only just dried. Two white numbers informed him that this was indeed number 16, but otherwise the door bore no remarkable traits. There wasn’t even a name tag, which as Gilbert thought about Ned’s ‘lifestyle’ for a moment, seemed kind of logical,

He felt his heart pounding in his throat as he shakily pulled the key out of his pockets. It was as if he watched someone else do it for him as  the key smoothly slid into the heavy lock, turning with low gritty noises, the door opening witch a loud click. He hesitated for a moment, breathing heavily.

While he had done some things in his early life that couldn’t be considered legal, he’d never gone any further than spray-painting the occasional bus stop or throwing rocks through the windows of his school, and he’d even stopped doing that after he saw Opi’s eyes starting to water as he picked Gilbert up from the police station for what felt like the thousandth time. Breaking into someone’s apartment, someone who was recently murdered, was a whole other kind of deal.

As he stepped inside, head bowed, shaking hands slamming the door shut behind him with a heavy thud his eyes were drawn to the bare walls, covered in light wooden panels, not a single painting or ornament on them.

As he walked through the dark hallway into the living room he could see various shelves and drawers, square, white and lightweight, looking as if they had been bought from IKEA only days ago. They were almost empty, only three of four books stacked in the corner of one of them, next to a box of tissues and a small porcelain sculpture of a bunny, which was, along with a bouquet of dead tulips on the dining table, the only decoration in the room.

The entire apartment was obsessively clean, from the shiny white tiles in the kitchen to the polished wooden floor, and combined with the faint smell or detergent and paint the entire room seemed to be covered in, it made Gilbert feel as if he were standing inside of a showroom of some American furniture outlet instead of a real person’s house, which probably was for the better as he thought about it.

He stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds, uncertainly fiddling with one of the strings from his jogging pants before dropping the bag beside him with a dull thud and shutting the blinds before walking straight towards  the chest of drawers that was tucked away in a corner of the room, next to the bed, determinedly  yanking it open. The first and second drawers were empty but dust-free, the third contained only a few white towels and a sheet of paper which informed the reader of the house rules of Elizabeth Apartments.

He checked the cupboards in the kitchen next. Nothing, only tidy stacks of gleaming plates. No envelopes shoved in between the books, no boxes hidden underneath the mattress, nothing behind the tv. After a few minutes of hysterically rummaging through bottles of cleaning detergent and soap in the cabinets beneath the sink he gave up and sat down on the bed, hiding his face in his hands.

“ _Well_ , what did you think what was going to happen, ya moron?” He laughed bitterly to himself, his voice sounding hollow bouncing off the walls of Ned’s polished wooden dungeon. “Find a giant stack of cash hidden away underneath his tablecloth or something’? _Gott,_ what am I even doing?”

He let himself fall back onto the bed, the springs creaking dangerously, burying his face in an ugly crocheted bedspread that his brother would’ve loved.

 _Ned and Ludwig had more in common apparently than their shared tall statures and light blonde hair,_ Gilbert mused. Aside from their love for ugly and frumpy objects, the two also seemed to share a knack for cleaning until their fingers bled.

 _Two similar people, two entirely different worlds,_ Gilbert thought to himself, fingering the lacy rim of the bedspread absent-mindedly. _What if Ned was someone’s little brother too?_ He winced, biting his lip. He did not want to think too much about that. _Ned’s dead already,_ he tried to console himself, _and Ludwig could be if he starves to death because your broke ass got itself caught up in a lawsuit._

 “You need to do this for him.” Gilbert whispered softly to himself. “For Ludwig. You need to save yourself for Ludwig.”

From the corner of his eye he could see something blinking. He sat up and turned his head. The sun had sank a little lower and shone right through the cheap excuses Ned had for blinds onto a silver doorknob, located just a little above the headboard of the bed. Gilbert could slap himself. _How had he not seen that before?_

A few firm pushes and the bed was off the wall. He quickly opened the door, only to immediately gag at the smell that greeted him, sweaty and heavy, earthy and sickeningly sweet.

It was almost as if he had stepped into a jungle, potted plants almost reaching the ceiling surrounding him with their drooping leaves.

“Jesus Ned..” He breathed softly, pushing aside bushes of leaves to step further into what appeared to be a forest of marihuana.

While the bright lamps were still on, the plants appeared to be dehydrated, their hanging branches catching on Gilbert’s hair as he struggled to move through the room. The smell was almost unbearable, sweat glistening on his forehead. It only now occurred to Gilbert that he had entered the lion’s den. Only one person had to come by, a housekeeper, a relative, and they would find Gilbert sweating his ass off in a pot farm. _He should probably go._ He marvelled at the sheer size of Ned’s handiwork one more time before moving back towards the door.

It was then that he spotted the suitcase. Greedy hands opened it without a second thought. _Bags._ Lots and lots of little zip lock bags. _One gram, two gram, half a gram._ Thousands of grams of crumbly white.

Gilbert could not help but wonder if Ned had wrapped all of that himself. It wasn’t that hard to imagine Ned at his rickety IKEA kitchen table, scraping every single little crumb of cocaine into plastic baggies, like the huge autistic fuck he was. Gilbert swallowed heavily.

 _Cocaine._ Cocaine was worth a _lot_ of money.  And this was a _lot_ of cocaine, such an incredibly large amount that Gil wondered why Ned was not murdered sooner if he had a habit of leaving stuff like that lying around.

He ran his hands over one of the bags, feeling the powder slip through his fingers as he squeezed it. A dealer would not leave stuff like this lying around, not if there weren’t a purpose for it. He slowly reached into his back pocket, pulling out the flip phone. He scrolled through Ned’s text messages, searching for something, _something_ that could give him hope. He found it in an unsaved number, the last number Ned had texted, at least with this burner phone.

* * *

 

_+49 06 47 38 91 35: come to my place on the 9th. bring ur pearls with u._

_Ned: Why yours?_

_+49 06 47 38 91 35: bullen saw us last time. boetticherstrasse 6. dahlem if u didn’t kno. bring all._

_Ned: Not sure if that’s a good idea._

_+49 06 47 38 91 35: Ur goin to make big smack man_

_Ned: 25 half a pearl._

_+49 06 47 38 91 35: ur price racks up every time_

_Ned: Tough times are coming. Take it or ?_

_+49 06 47 38 91 35: sure_

_____ 9th of may _____

_Ned: Dude on his way rn_

* * *

 

Gilbert removed his trembling thumbs from the small keyboard. He’d never tried cocaine, but he would have to now in order to gather the courage to follow through with his plan.


	12. A Toast to Gilbert Müller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert swims with a shark. Antonio performs a heroic deed.

" _Hola,_  Gil!" Antonio beamed at him as he got into the car, his anger at Gilbert from a few hours earlier long forgotten.  _God._  Gilbert wished he could be more like his friend sometimes. Antonio's cheerful expression changed into one of surprise as Gilbert smiled, a wide slightly psychopathic smile, back at him.

"Yo." He laughed, struggling to fasten his seatbelt, causing Antonio's eyebrows to rise a little further.

"Everything all right?" His voice actually sounded concerned, how sweet.

"Everything all right? Everything's  _great!_ " Gilbert knew he was probably shouting, but it was the truth. Ever since he'd almost smashed his nose into Ned's kitchen table, trying to snort up every last crumb of snow, things were awesome. He was cruising on this huge wave of happiness that had suddenly welled up from somewhere inside him, and he honestly could not understand why he had ever been sad.

"Toni, my ma- _oops_!" Antonio's shoulder had been a little further than anticipated, and Gilbert almost fell over, if it weren't for Toni's hands,  _bigstrongtannedandsooowarm_ , pushing against his chest, stopping him.

" _Gilbert!_ " Antonio laughed. "What the hell are you doing?" As usual, he did not notice anything strange about Gilbert. Ohh, how he loved his clueless friend. Everyone with common sense would've ran away from him and Francis long ago, but  _sweet_  Toni had always stayed, always tried to help, soothe, comfort. He would have to reward Toni with something once he had earned his money. Buy him something expensive, shoes or a bag or something, and watch Francis fume with jealousy over it. Could be fun.

"Toni, my man!" He said again, even more cheerful this time. "Could you do me another favour?"

"I don't know Gil, it's pretty late already." Antonio said, biting his lower lip, thinking. "I've got a date tonight."

"A  _date!_ " Gilbert said, eyes widening comically. "Oh Toni, please don't tell me that you are also resorting to the unawesome land of monogamy!"

Antonio chuckled, Gilbert had to squint his eyes in order to keep his gaze completely focused on his face. "Don't worry Gil, it's just the second date. And it's not like you will lose me as soon as I get a girlfriend."

"I'll keep ya to it!" Gilbert said, pointing at Toni. "Those were some  _long_  fucking six years man, I missed having you around! Just don't ditch me for your new girlfriend, okay? We don't need another Francis."

"No we don't." Antonio said, a little more determined than intended, before he looked at Gilbert and they both cracked up.

"Not that you could find anybody else like that beautiful fucking cunt." Gilbert said after a while, lighting a cigarette. " _Gott._  He still looks absolutely gorgeous. I hate it."

Antonio's lips curled into a sad smile. "Too bad he does not always think pretty thoughts,  _no_?" He stared into the distance for a moment before starting the car. "What do you want me to do for you?"

"I want you to please, pleasepleaseprettyplease, por favor, drive me to  _Dahlem_  and pick me up again." Gilbert said, making his best puppy dog eyes.

" _Dios mio,_  how many friends do you want to visit?" Antonio sighed, before rolling his eyes as he pulled up. "Fine."

"Thank you, Toni, I love ya." Gilbert muttered, lips curled into a dopey smile as he clumsily stroked his friend's arm.

Antonio made a disbelieving sound, Gilbert looked into the car mirror just in time to see his eyes, as green as olives framed by dark lashes, widen in surprise. "Aww,I love you too, buddy! What has gotten into you, I don't recall you ever being as sentimental to me before, you usually saved all of that for Fran, you sure everything's okay?"

"Yes, Antonio!" Gilbert said, smiling broadly. "Things are going to be okay, with  _me_!"

For the first time in days, Gilbert had the actual feeling that his financial problems could be solved.  _It wasn't the most ethical of ways, but hey, the end justifies the means, right?_

He marvelled at the way Antonio's eyes lit up in happiness, the real kind, not the awkward polite kind he had shown Gilbert ever since they were reunited. "Oh, Gilbert! That's  _wonderful!_ ""

They spent the rest of the drive in silence, Gilbert slipping further and further into his car seat as the drug wore off, causing him to feel drowsy. He closed his eyes, feeling the movements of the tires on the smooth asphalt vibrate through his body, listening to the way Antonio's husky voice muttered along with some sensual Spanish song on the radio.

* * *

Darkness had already fallen over Berlin-Dahlem as Gilbert walked onto the broad driveway of  _Boetticherstasse 6._  A marble terrace lead to an enormous three-story mansion, all plastered white and marble curls, dimmed light fell through large windows onto the tightly clipped lawn. The house seemed to come straight out of a mafia-themed movie, and Gilbert had to swallow a couple of times before he had finally gathered enough courage to ring the doorbell.

" _Ja?_ " A cool female voice crackled through the speaker.

"Erm..I-it's Ned's guy."

The door opened with a deep buzzing noise. "Please do come in." The voice said, sounding slightly amused at Gil's trembling voice.

* * *

 

Gilbert gawked around in awe as he was led through the mansion by a brown haired woman, the sharp curve of her lips smeared in bright red, the black blazer and skirt hugging her curves tightly. He followed the clacking of her high heels over intricately patterned marble tiles, letting his gaze wander over the golden curls on the ceiling. The house did not look old, it seemed as if the current owner had built this entire palace for himself quite recently.

The woman halted abruptly, Gilbert nearly bumping into her. " _Herr Mayer_  is in the backyard." She said sharply, gesturing toward the opened doors through which Gilbert could see the blue glistening ripples of a pool. The loud jeering and chattering of voices and the deep bass of some house music drifted through the widely opened glass doors. The woman raised a sharply plucked eyebrow at him, as if edging him to go outside, so he did.

As Gilbert walked past the swimming pool towards a wooden terrace in the back of the garden, he was faced with a scene he thought only existed in movies.

A group of formally dressed men was lounging on a set of bamboo garden chairs, a royally set table between them while scantily clad women seemed to enjoy themselves either by dancing to the music or cuddling up to one of the businessmen.

The entire scene was lit by a huge firepit, which crackled ominously as Gilbert drew closer.

The man seated closest to the firepit, and thus to the pool, looked up at the nearing footsteps. His eyes narrowed in confusion first, but his lips curled into a smile as Gilbert slowly took the black suitcase out of his sports bag,

" _Ah!_  There are my beloved pearls!" He rose from his seat, staggering quite a bit, extending his hand toward Gilbert. "Such a  _shame_  Ned couldn't make it, but how lovely that you could,  _Herr_..?"

" _Müller, Gilbert Müller."_

His hand was warm and clammy as he tightly squeezed Gilbert's fingers together in an obvious display of power. "So pleased to meet you,  _Herr Müller_."

He looked nothing like the mafia boss Gilbert had been expecting. He was pale and lanky, his blonde-turning-grey tuft of hair slicked back onto his head, greyish blue eyes boring themselves into Gilbert's. He looked like he took care of himself, grey tailored pants, a soft blue blouse, the sleeves rolled up for this casual gathering, a whole set of gold rings adorning his right hand. Gilbert himself felt rather out of place in his jogging pants and oversized hoodie.

"Come, sit down,  _sit down_." Mayer said kindly, lightly clasping Gilbert's shoulder, leading him towards one of the seats before sitting down himself with the grace of a leopard.

Everything else about Mayer's person oozed charming businessman, but his smile was like a shark's, broad and all teeth.

The other men and women in the room eyed Gilbert with curiosity as he sat down.

"Brandy?" Mayer boomed. "Mabel,  _schatzi_ , go fetch our guest a drink won't you?"

"Go get it yourself,  _arschloch_." The woman who had let Gilbert in had joined them, staring at Mayer, who was apparently her husband or partner, in annoyance.

Mayer rolled his eyes. "Ah!  _Women!_  What use do they have outside of the bedroom am I right?" He said to Gilbert, who nodded uncertainly.

"Never marry a woman boys, or your mood will droop just as low as their saggy tits!" The other men laughed loudly, some clinking their glasses together in agreement as Mabel, or Frau Mayer, huffed and stomped off.

"Luckily I've kept some young blood around to distract me." Mayer laughed, reaching forward to grab the hand of a young blonde woman who had been standing behind Gilbert's chair.

"Liesl, be a dear and get Herr Müller a brandy. The bottle is still on the kitchen table." He cooed, running a thumb over her hand, small and fragile in his own large manicured hands.

" _Naturlich, Rudi_." She giggled, stroking his cheek before tugging down the hem of her short leather skirt in a weak attempt to cover herself.

"That's a good girl!" He praised, smacking her ass as she sauntered away into the house.

He turned back to Gilbert again, who had been sitting quietly with his hands folded into his lap, suitcase tucked between his legs.

"So,  _Herr Müller_ , your drink is on the way.  _Cigar?_ "

Gilbert nodded awkwardly, taking a cigar from the box that was offered to him. It tasted way stronger than a cigarette, and Gilbert tried his best to refrain from coughing as he exhaled a thick puff of smoke.

"I am so happy that Ned was able to arrange something, despite not being able to come himself." Mayer said.

"You see, it's Raoul's birthday!" He gestured to a quite intoxicated fat man wearing a party hat. "His party would not be the same without some snow, right boys?" The men made loud noises of agreement.

His broad hand sneaked between Gilbert's knees, grasping the leather handle. " _May I?_ "

"Go ahead." Gilbert said quietly, trying to remain casual, while on the inside he was shaking with nerves. Mayer made him feel uneasy, not just because of his sexist remarks, but because of the way he seemed to loom over people like a snake ready to strike. He couldn't help but feel as if he'd stepped into another lion's den.

Mayer drew the suitcase from between his legs, casually shoving dinner plates and crystal glasses aside to make room on the glass dining table. As he opened the suitcase, he let out a cackle. "Ah,  _wonderful!_  Come look at it my friends!"

The men gathered around the table, running their hands through the mountain of cocaine-filled baggies that sat inside it. After a few seconds of admiring, Mayer turned back to Gilbert. "Tell me,  _Herr Müller_ , what do you want in return?"

"Ned's price. 50 euro per 2 grams, nothing more, nothing less." Gilbert said determinedly. He had rehearsed that part.

Mayer chuckled, a low threatening sound. "Alright, alright, the exact price Ned wants. Not just a little more to keep for yourself? He picks his people well."

Gilbert anxiously licked his lips. "I like to think so too."

Mayer studied his face for a couple more moments, causing Gilbert to shift uncomfortably in his seat, nervously tapping his cigar into the crystal ashtray that had been provided to him, before he reached into his pocket, pulling out a stack of cash, offering it to Gil.

"Here you go. You too boys, c'mon."

One by one they reached into their pockets, placing the money on the table in front of Gilbert. Gilbert could not help but smirk at the sheer amount of it. He reached beside his chair for his sports bag and eagerly started tucking the money inside of it. He suddenly felt heavy eyes upon him and halted his movements, slowly raising his head to see Mayer staring down at him with an ominous grin and a raised glass.

"Shall we have a toast?"

Gilbert hadn't even noticed that Liesl had already brought a glass of brandy to him, and he gripped it with shaky fingers before raising from his seat. "Alright."

Mayer scraped his throat, and his friends also raised their glass, forcing Gilbert to do the same. "A toast, to  _Raoul_ , who turned 41 today, congratulations old friend." He nodded curtly to Raoul, who seemed to be too preoccupied with a dark haired girl in a skimpy glittery dress to properly respond.

"A toast to  _Gilbert Müller_ , who has kindly provided us with the right amount of pearls,  _danke schön_." He nodded at Gilbert, who offered him a tight lipped smile before raising the glass to his lips.

" _Also,_ "

Gilbert froze, the glass inches from his lips, lowering it again, looking at Mayer in confusion.

"I want to have a toast to in memory to  _Ned_ , who would've been delighted with the amount of money we just gave him, had he been alive."

The glass was raised high before Mayer's fist unclenched. Gilbert watched as it fell towards the floor, shattering into thousands of sparkly little shambles amidst a pool of brandy. He stiffened as something cold and hard was pressed against his neck.  _A gun_.

"We're among the richest in Berlin,  _Herr Müller_ , in Germany even. We are well educated men." Mayer snarked, grinning cruelly at Gilbert.

"Did you really think we do not follow the news? Lars van Rijn has been missing for more than four days now, and when a drug dealer goes missing, they're usually dead. Which brings me to my question."

He walked forward, shattered glass cracking beneath his expensive dress shoes, grabbing the front of Gilbert's hoodie.

" _Who_  the  _fuck_  is this scrawny  _little_  albino who claims to be Ned's guy?" He shook Gilbert roughly.

" _Oh_ , and don't go telling me that you are actually Ned's guy. If you knew him even a little bit you would know that  _1._  He always operates alone, it's his trademark. Also, he does not trust many people with his cash which brings me to  _2._  You failed to count the money you'd been offered to check if it was the right amount, Ned wouldn't trust a guy like that."

Gilbert was panting heavily, internally panicking. He was caught red-handed faking to be the help of a drug dealer by a mob of drunk angry businessmen who were apparently armed.  _What a strange way to end up killed._

"Why do you  _care_ who Ned trusted or not? Gilbert spat in a rare whim of boldness. "You got your coke, that's all that  _should_ matter to you. Why'd you care who you got it from?"

He winced as the gun was pressed tighter to his neck.

Mayer laughed harshly, his cold eyes alight with some insane spark. "Ned was my trusted dealer for over 7 years. But you're right, I don't care."

He threw his hands up in a grotesque shrug. "I  _don't_. All I care about is my precious pearls. And if I'm honest, this is even  _better_!"

He leaned closer, Gilbert could smell alcohol on his thick sour breath. "You see," He whispered cruelly. "Now I don't have to pay."

He gestured towards where some of his friends were currently stuffing the left over money into Gilbert's sports bag. "If you object I'll take you straight to the police and tell them you're the one who killed Lars van Rijn."

"I DIDN'T!" Gilbert yelled, trying to step towards Mayer, only to receive a blow to the head with the back of a gun. He fell to the ground, clutching his throbbing head, stars dancing before his eyes, something wet and hot dripped over his hands. Red splatters on dark wood.

"Careful  _Herr Müller_ , or you'll end up with a bullet in your brain. Honestly though, who do you think they'll believe? Me, an influential businessman who happens to have close bonds with the mayor of Berlin, or you, a drug-addicted nobody? Also, you've got to have Ned's burner phone in order to text me and from that we can at least deduce that you've stolen something from him, or rather his body, so you  _did_  commit a crime." Gilbert could literally hear the evil smirk that had crept onto the man's face.

" _F-fuck you!_ " He snarled, gasping, having to press his palms flat to the ground in order to keep from toppling over. "Just give me my goddamn money!"

_Ineedmymoneyneedmymoneyforludwigforludwig._

Mayer laughed, harshly, cruelly, kicking against Gilbert's elbow, causing his arm to buckle and his face to almost smash into the floor. "You should be happy if you even leave this place  _alive_ ,  _Gilbert Müller."_

' _For Ludwig. You need to get the money, save yourself, save Ludwig._ ' Gilbert's inner voice echoed around in his brains. ' _For Ludwig!_ '

"For Ludwig."

Mayer cackled. "What was that? Don't be shy little- _oumpf!_ "

His voice was abruptly cut off by Gilbert jamming his fist into his face. Knuckles digging into soft skin, then hitting bone. Gilbert let out a satisfied huff at the feeling. His triumph didn't last for long, however, because for a drunk man, Mayer's reflexes still were quick. He grasped a handful of Gilbert's silvery hair, closing the other around his throat, dragging him towards the fire pit.

"You  _motherfucker_!" He snarled, sweaty forehead, bloody nose, spraying little droplets of spit all over Gilbert's face. "I'll make you taste the flames!"

He bent Gilbert over, his head dangerously close to the crackling flames, and Gilbert was momentarily faced with the fiery orange face of death, before something knocked into the both of them, hard, causing Mayer to fall over, dragging Gilbert with him.

Gilbert vaguely heard the shrieks and screams of the other present men and women before he breached through the surface of the pool and was dragged down into wet darkness, into  _nothing_.

* * *

"You jumped over the fence!" The amazed words that Gilbert uttered out while lying limply in the car seat were pointedly ignored. " _You actually jumped over the fucking fence!_ "

Antonio's head snapped towards him, a huge spot of dried up blood under his nose staining his upper lip, eyes blown wide, dark curls soaking wet, hands trembling around the steering wheel. " _Gilbert_ , shut your fucking mouth and go to sleep,  _I swear to god!"_


	13. 49 06 87 47 61 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toni is bruised and breathing fire. Ludwig is not angry, just sad. Gilbert tries to deal with his wounds and the disappointment of his loved ones while also slowly continuing to expand his new 'job'. Nobody seems willing to give him a break.

When Gilbert woke up again, he found himself in his own bedroom, tucked into bed underneath multiple blankets. He blinked slowly, and his bedroom ceiling came into view. A dark shadow contrasted sharply with his soft yellow ceiling. He blinked again and the shadow changed into Toni’s concerned face.

“Ludwig, he’s awake.”  Toni called over his shoulder, and ice cold realisation poured over Gilbert.

_Toni, whom Ludwig barely knew, had brought the both of them here to his doorstep, both soaking wet, Gilbert sporting a bleeding head-_ and a burn on his hand, he realized as he saw the bandages on his fingers _\- and Toni covered in scrapes and bruises and blood that wasn’t his own._

His dread must’ve been clearly visible on his face because Toni leant closer to him and whispered: “I told Ludwig you were too drunk and got into a brawl with some other drunkards, and that I had to save you.”

 “Well, that’s almost entirely true, isn’t it? Only I wasn’t drunk.” Gilbert said weakly, trying to smile up at Toni. Antonio was having none of it, however.

“What the _fuck_ was that all about, Gilbert?” He hissed angrily, obviously struggling to not start shouting. “That wasn’t just some _little brawl_. What were you doing with all those-“

His entire demeanour changed suddenly, he sat up and his lips curled into a reassuring smile. “Oh _hey_ , Ludwig. Our little drunkard’s awake now.”

Slowly, his brother’s disappointed face came into Gilbert’s slightly wavering view. He looked tired, as always these days, eyes small and watery in his exhausted face. Despite it clearly being deep in the night-Gilbert could see from his window that the lights in the buildings on the opposite side of the street were switched off- he wasn’t wearing his pyjamas. He had not even bothered to remove his hair gel, stiff locks of blonde hair had drooped down onto his forehead. He looked terrible.

“ _Luddy..”_ He murmured softly, pitifully.

Ludwig only threw him one cold look. “I brought you some water, and an aspirin.” He said, as business-like as ever.

Gilbert could barely focus on Ludwig’s face as his brother moved closer to place a glass upon his nightstand. He hesitantly lifted his hand, trying to touch Ludwig’s wrist but his little brother flinched away from him, and that hurt him more than the pain in his head, hand, neck and everything else.

A warm tanned hand wrapped around his; it seemed that even when Toni was angry he still possessed a comforting streak. He noticed that Antonio’s hand was wrapped in bandages too. “Don’t tire yourself Gil, it’ll only hurt your head more.”

Gilbert nodded weakly at his friend, curling his bony fingers around Antonio’s stronger ones, closing his eyes, simply embracing the way Toni’s thumbs rubbed soothing circles onto the back of his hand.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, _Ludwig_.” He hear Antonio say, voice soft and gentle, understanding, as if it were Ludwig who was in immense pain instead of Gilbert.

_No, please, Ludwig. Stay. Please._

Ludwig let out something what to Gilbert sounded like a sigh of relief, quietly leaving the room. Gilbert exhaled shakily in defeat. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, listening only to his own pounding heart and Antonio’s soft breathing.

“You know,” Antonio said suddenly, his voice sounding lonely in the further quiet room. “You should _thank_ me.”

Gilbert opened his eyes, tightening his grip around Toni’ hand. “ _I know_ , Toni. I know. I owe you _my life_! I could never thank you enough for what you did. You _saved_ my-“

His babbling was interrupted by Antonio’s sharp pitch. “I took your bag with me. Don’t know how I remembered it, as I was simultaneously carrying your bleeding _body_ on my shoulder, but you’re lucky. Otherwise you would’ve lost-“

The sound of a zipper. “- _all_ -“

The soft rustling of paper. “- _of_ -“

Antonio’s warm hand leaving his own.“- _this._ ”

Antonio’s hand closing his own hand around a stack of bills.

“Look at it, Gilbert.” Antonio said shakily. “That’s a couple hundred bucks right there. And there’s _more_ stacks. Now tell me, how the _hell_ did you earn this kinda money?”

Antonio looked appalled as Gilbert started to laugh, a choking hoarse sound. “There was a fucking _mountain_ of cocaine right on the table, did you not see it!?”

“No I didn’t, Gil! I was too busy rescuing you from some fucker who had you in a chokehold threatening to throw you into a _firepit!_ ” Antonio snarled. Then it dawned on him.

“ _COCAINE_ , GILBERT!?”

“ _Ludwig.”_ Gilbert stammered weakly, and Toni immediately lowered his voice.

“Fucking _cocaine!?_ You were selling _cocaine_ to those people. You _were_ -oh _Dios mio,_ you are such a fucking _IDIOT!_ ”

He had never seen Antonio this angry, he was shaking with rage, gritting his teeth.

“You could have died, Gilbert. _Died_. How long have you been doing this?”

“I came up with the idea this morning.” Gilbert said dryly, wincing when Antonio slapped him in the face. The pain tingled from his heated cheek straight to his pounding brain

“You’re _INSANE!_ You’re- “ Toni threw his hands up in despair.

“ _Listen, Gilbert-“_ His voice cracked, pitiful, weak. He moved closer to Gilbert’s head, his breath ghosting over Gilbert’s cheeks.

“I know life’s not easy for you right now. I know it all _sucks_. I know it sucks that you work a low-paying job, I know it sucks that Francis treats you like shit, I know it sucks that you quit your studies-“

He swallowed audibly. “I know it sucks that we left you on your own for six years but- but getting drunk, getting high, smoking- it’s not going to help you.”

“How’d you know I use drugs?” Gilbert said curiously, barely listening to what his friend said. It were just words, after all, and if he had learnt anything from his two best friends, it was that words were just shells that contained empty promises.

Antonio glowered at him, annoyed. “I found a huge bag of weed lying underneath your pillow as I made your bed ready for your beaten ass to sleep in. But _god_ , that’s not even the _point_ of this! I’m not rich Gilbert, these are tough times for me too, financially, but I would never, _ever_ , resort to criminal activities! It’s dangerous, Gilbert! For fucks sake, take care of yourself will you?”

“I’m trying.” Gilbert croaked. “Just trying to make sure Ludwig and I have something to eat..”

“Yeah, and if you die Ludwig can use the drug money to pay for your funeral.” Antonio said harshly. “ _Jesus_ , where did you even get the cocaine from anyway?”

“There are some things..it’s better that you don’t know them, Toni. For your safety.” Gilbert said softly. _My involvement in the murder of my dealer, for instance._

Antonio laughed mockingly. “My _safety!?_ Gilbert, _dear,_ I scraped my knees and cut my hands trying to climb over a fence with barbed wire when I heard you scream.” He showed Gilbert his hands, dirty bandages covered in pinkish stains.

 “ I cut open my knuckles while punching a guy that tried to kill you in the face. I lunged at someone who was holding a loaded gun, who tried to shoot at me, someone else punched me in the face, almost breaking my nose, I almost drowned trying to pull you out of a pool. Hooray for friendship, right? Sorry, but I don’t think you have any right trying to _pretend_ you can protect me!”

He rose from his chair, staring down at Gilbert in disgust. “I am so done with you. You go contemplate your life choices right now! Call me when you’ve got your act together.”

_No. Please. Stay. Please._

He disappeared from Gilbert’s vision. Soft but angry footsteps on Gilbert’s wooden floor. His parting comment lacked real venom, instead sounding just very tired. “I hope you enjoy the money, a lot of blood has been spilled over it.” And then he was gone.

* * *

 

He found Ludwig in the kitchen the next morning, eyes puffy, cutting into the sandwiches like he was trying to kill them. His brother flinched sharply as Gilbert wrapped his arms around a broad back, but otherwise didn’t react.

“I’m sorry.” Gilbert murmured, pressing his cheek into the back of his brothers t-shirt. A spark of pain shot through his head at the motion but he ignored it. “Ludwig, I’m _so_ sorry.”

At first Ludwig was silent, then he responded in a small voice. “You promised _Opi_ you wouldn’t do that anymore. End up- like that. Beaten. _Drunk_.”  His deep voice rumbled through his back, Gilbert could feel it vibrating in his own chest.

“You remember that?” Gilbert said, surprised, releasing his brother, watching as he turned around to meet his eyes.

“Of course I remember.” Ludwig said seriously. “I was eleven years old back then _Bruder_ , not four. You made him a promise, and you broke it.”

“I know Lutz, and I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to keep fucking up like that.” Gilbert said quietly, avoiding his brother’s eyes.

“Please don’t do it again, Gilbert.”  His eyes were sunken back in purple caves, his lips pursed. Body large, awkward, unsure what to do with himself. “You were doing so well, getting a job and such. _Please_ stay out of trouble.”

_Oh Ludwig, you don’t even know the half of it,_ Gilbert thought sourly.

He forced his lips into a comforting smile, patting Ludwig’s shoulder awkwardly. “I’ll try, kay? For you.”

* * *

 

_49 06 87 47 61 53:_ _I’ll kill you_

Gilbert stared at the text in surprise. Ned must have had a lot of enemies. _Sorry dude, someone else has gotten to him first_ , he thought darkly, the corners of his mouth curling into a grim smile. He closed the black burner phone, eyes drifting back to the man sitting on the opposite side of the plastic table. “Sorry, _you were saying?_ ”

Mathias Kohler, Matt for friends, rolled his eyes in impatience. “What I was saying, is, what do I get out of it dude?” He flicked his cigarette before lazily raising it to his lips again. “I barely know ya.”

“You know me, man. Same dealer. We smoked together a couple times.” Gilbert said, lighting a cigarette of his own.

The tall man took a thoughtful sip of his Red Bull. “ _Right_. And back then you were so poor you used your grandad’s inheritance to finance your addiction, and now you’re here offerin’ me a job.” His voice was laced with a strange foreign accent, Swedish perhaps.

Gilbert shifted uneasily in his plastic chair. “I’m not proud of that. But I’m serious now. Me, you, we could make a lot of money.” He exhaled slowly, revelling in the feeling of smoke escaping from in between his slightly parted lips. “And it’s all in here.” He grabbed the black burner phone, placing it in the middle of the table, carefully studying Mathias’ reaction.

The man stared at it for a moment, unfazed, before his light blue eyes widened. “That’s- That’s _Ned’s_ , innit?” His striking eyes wandered over Gilbert’s face, either hoping for a confirmation or a denial, Gilbert wasn’t sure. He found confirmation in Gilbert’s slow nod.

He licked his lips, nervously running a hand through his gell-soaked blonde hair. “ _How’d ya-?_ F-fuck man, I ain’t working with killers.”

Gilbert ignored the accusation, pressing his cigarette into the ceramic ashtray that sat on the table next to their cans of Red Bull, opening the burner phone, showing Mathias a list of contacts, slowly scrolling through it. “Dealers, shippers, customers- Ned was sitting on a goldmine.”

Mathias eyed him suspiciously, his mouth twisting into a snide curl. There was a little crust just beside the corner of his bottom lip, a memory of how someone had apparently punched him in the face a few days earlier. “What do ya want from me?” He said roughly, hands, thick fingers, scraped knuckles and ragged fingernails ,clenching his can with a little more force than necessary.

“Well,” Gilbert said casually, taking a slow sip from his drink before looking Mathias straight in the eye. “It’d be a shame to let Ned’s carefully crafted network go to waste, wouldn’t it? I mean, it’s literally lying at my fingertips. I’m sure there’s a lot of buck to make.”

He ran a thoughtful hand over the rim of the blue-silver can. “I can’t do it on my own though. Ned tried to do it, it was his trademark even, and look what happened to him. I need other people in the field, who sell and buy, deliver and pick up.”

“And you think I’m suitable for the job.” Mathias said, slightly surprised. Even though he still sounded appalled, there was a curious glint in his eyes. “I’ve never dealt, just used, man.”

“Me neither.” Gilbert admitted, shrugging. “I thought you’d have at least some sort of experience, you’re a nice guy y’know, you get around, you hang with both dealers and users. Thought you’d know some potential customers and some little tricks regarding drug wrapping and weed growing.”

“I do.” Mathias said, tapping lightly at his bottom lip. “What are you offerin’?”

Gilbert reached into the pocket of his hoodie, showing a hint of a fat stack of cash. Mathias’ eyes widened. “That would be your payment in advance.”

“W-what would ya like me to do?” Mathias laughed, astounded

“I assume it’s a deal then?” Gilbert said, amused. Funny what money could do to people’s morals.

“Hell yeah dude!” Mathias boomed, leaning forward in his seat in order to extend a hand to Gilbert.

 Gilbert shook it swiftly, flashing a smirk at his new-found partner before turning serious again. “I need you to pick up a batch of snow in Kreuzberg at Kotti and deliver it to someone else. I’ll text ya the details. Take the car if you’ve got one, it’s less suspicious.”

Mathias nodded, quickly raising from his chair. “Y-yeah, okay. I got a car. I’ll go right now, man. Sadik!” He turned around to call for the owner of the Mini Market they were sitting in front of, and Sadik appeared immediately in the door opening, a muscular Turkish man wearing a green polo shirt.

“Yes, my friends?”

Mathias dug around in his pockets in his search for some money, but Gilbert halted him.

“My treat.” He said lazily, handing the store owner a ten euro bill. “Sadik, could you get me another pack of Marlboro Red?” God, it felt great to have a bit of money.

Sadik nodded and headed inside. Mathias harshly patted his shoulder in gratitude. “Awesome, man! See ya!”

Gilbert winced slightly at the rough touch but that did not keep a smirk from tugging at the corners of his mouth. He watched Mathias go, satisfied.

After Sadik handed him his cigarettes, he said goodbye to the store owner and walked away, ready to enjoy the rest of his Friday afternoon at home with a pizza and Netflix. He was almost home as Ned’s phone buzzed in his back pocket.

He huffed in annoyance, half-expecting it to be a confused Mathias asking for more specific details or an irritated customer asking when Ned was finally going to deliver his next fix to him. It was neither of those.

_49 06 87 47 61 53: You killed Ned and now we’re going to kill you, Gilbert Beilschmidt._

The world seemed to freeze around him. He closed the phone with shaking hands, raising his head to carefully look around him.

_They knew his name._

A woman walking by threw him a strange look, a screaming toddler in tow.  

_Who were they, anyways?_

On the other side of the street some elderly Arabic men in white robes were smoking a hookah in front of a Shisha Lounge.

_Were they watching him?_

A S-Bahn carriage thundered past, on its way to Berlin - Mitte, strictly on time as usual.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, nobody was paying any attention to him. Gilbert relaxed only a little, throwing one last paranoid glance over his shoulder before heading inside.

 


End file.
